“Well, considerbul, mostly,” said the overseer.
Here Virginia returned with a gourd of water, keeping the quick-falling drops from her father’s not too immaculate attire while he drank by means of her skilfully hollowed hands.
“Yo’ breakfas’ ’s ready,” she said over her shoulder to Roden. He went in, and found it to be a slight variation on the last night’s meal. There were some corn-meal cakes--batter cakes, Virginia called them--and miraculously cooked mutton-chops. A half-hour later the overseer appeared at the window to offer his services as guide over the farm.
When Roden returned from his investigations it was one of the great clock in the hall, and the sky like a vast blue banner overhead.
He went out on the “front porch,” and called to Herrick as he crossed “the yard,” with the little terrier at his heels. “Is there a good view from that hill just back of the house?” he asked.
“Mos’ people goes fyar crazy over it,” said Herrick. “Hit’s a right rough climb to the top. Want tuh go up? Faginia kin show you. O-o-o-o-o Faginia! Faginia!”
Virginia appeared, clad from throat to heels in a vast brown apron, her half-bare arms covered with flour, and her thick braids skewered across the top of her head with a big wooden knitting-needle.
“Makin’ bread?” said her father. “Well, yo’ kin get yo’ mammy to finish that. Mr. Roden here he wants to go trapeezing up to th’ top o’ Peter’s Mountain. I tole him you could show him.”
“All right,” she said, briefly; “but I kyarn’t walk: the Alderney heifer stepped on my foot this mornin’. I’ll ride if you like:” this last to Roden.
“By all means,” he said; “but if you do not mind, I had rather walk.”
“Of co’se,” she said, and disappeared again.
“The beauty of the question air,” said her sire, looking proudly after her, “that gyrl kin ride like a Injun.”
“She seems to do everything well,” said Roden, with a pleased recollection of those mutton-chops which Aunt Tishy had confided to him “Miss Faginia done herself.”
“She cert’n’y does,” said Herrick, and after making some unique excuse disappeared also.
Miss Herrick appeared a few moments later, again clad in her boyish attire, and mounted upon a fidgety little roan mare. She had slung a wicker basket from the saddle, and Roden heard a merry clink as of glass kissing silver when the mare sidled about.