It isn't Vadnie's fault. It's the way she's been raised."
"Well," observed Wally in the manner of delivering an ultimatum,
"excuse ME from any Eastern raising!"
A little later, Phoebe boldly invaded the secret chambers of Good
Indian's heart when he was readjusting the rocks which formed the
floor of the milk-house.
"Now, Grant," she began, laying her hand upon his shoulder as he
knelt before her, straining at a heavy rock, "Mother Hart is
going to give you a little piece of her mind about something
that's none of her business maybe."
"You can give me as many pieces as you like. They're always good
medicine," he assured her. But he kept his head bent so that his
hat quite hid his face from her. "What about?" he asked, a
betraying tenseness in his voice.
"About Vadnie--and you. I notice you don't speak--you haven't
that I've seen, since that day--on the porch. You don't want to
be too hard on her, Grant. Remember she isn't used to such
things. She looks at it different.
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