Country life -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Piedmont (U.S. : Region) -- Fiction; Virginia -- Fiction
Six months were gone now, and how hard she had worked! She thought of
the mornings when she had risen before day, eaten a hurried breakfast by
the crack of dawn, and milked the cows by the summer sunrise. From the
moment the warm milk frothed into the pails until the creamy butter was
patted into moulds and stamped with the name Old Farm beneath the device
of a harp-shaped pine, there was not a minute detail of the work that
was left to others. Even the scalding of the churns, the straining and
skimming of the milk in the old-fashioned way without a separator,--all
these simple tasks came under her watchful eyes. When the first supply
of butter was sent off, she waited with nervous dread for the verdict.
The price had seemed extravagant, for selling directly to her customer
she had asked thirty cents a pound, while butter in Pedlar's store was
never higher than ninepence in summer and a shilling in winter, measured
in the old English terms which were still commonly used in Queen
Elizabeth County.
"It seems a mighty high price," her mother had objected.
"I know, but Mrs. Faraday told me to ask more. She said the dairy would
get a dollar a pound for the very best. Some people are always ready to
pay a high price, and they value a thing more if they pay too much for
it. I found out all I could about butter making in New York, and I'm
sure nobody could have taken more trouble. It tasted like flowers."
"Well, perhaps--" Mrs. Oakley had sounded dubious. "We'll wait and see."
When the letter and check came together, Dorinda's spirits had soared on
wings. The hotel and the dairy would take all that she could supply of
that quality; and though she had known that her success was less
fortuitous than appeared on the surface, she had not paused to inquire
whether it was owing to influence or to accident. "If everything goes
well, I'll have twenty-five cows by next fall," she said hopefully, "and
Ebenezer and Mary Joe Green to help Fluvanna."
"You always jump so far ahead, Dorinda."
"I'm made that way. I can't help it. If I didn't live in the future, I
couldn't stand things as they are."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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