“I never seen no cattle, so I s’posed he war talkin’ sorter townified about his goods in the store. But I jes laffed an’ say, ‘My husband is a man with a free hand, though not a very fat purse, an’ I prefer ter spen’ a few dollars with ye, ez I expected ter do when I drifted in hyar a stranger.’ Ye notice them lies, Benjie. I reckon I kin explain them somehow at the las’ day, but they served my turn ez faithful ez the truth yestiddy. I say, ‘Ye kin take one penny out of the change an’ put a hole through it fer remembrance, an’ let old sake’s sake go at that.’” Once more her caroling, girlish laughter echoed along the lonely road. “Though I really hedn’t expected ter spen’ a cent, I bought me some thread an’ buttons, an’ some checked gingham fer aperns, an’ a leetle woolen shoulder-shawl, an’ paid fer them, meanin’ of course ter tote ’em along with me under my arm; but ’Roy gin the clerk a look, an’ that spry limber-jack whisked them all away, an’ remarked, ‘The goods will be sent up immejetly ter Mrs. Jarney’s, whar ye say ye be stoppin’.’ An’, Benjie, whenst Cousin Sophy Jarney an’ me opened that parcel las’ night, what d’ ye s’pose we f’und?” She gave Benjie a clutch on the wrist of the hand that held the reins; and feeling them tighten, old Whitey mended her pace. “Ye oughter been more keerful than ter hev lef’ the things at the store arter payin’ cash money fer ’em,” rejoined Benjie, sagely, not that he was suspicious of temperament, but unsophisticated of training. “Shucks!” cried Editha, with a rallying laugh. “All them common things that I bought war thar, an’ more besides, wuth trible the money, Benjie. A fancy comb fer the hair--looks some similar ter a crown, though jet-black an’ shiny--an’ a necklace o’ beads ter match. O Benjie!” she gave his hand an ecstatic pressure. “I’ll show ’em ter ye when we gits home--every one. They air in my kyarpet-bag thar in the back of the wagon. An’ thar war besides a leetle lace cape with leetle black jet beads winkin’ at ye all over it, an’ a pair o’ silk gloves, not like mittens, but with separate fingers. Cousin Sophy Jarney she jes squealed. She say, ‘I wish I hed a beau like that!’ Ned Jarney, standin’ by, watchin’ me open the parcel, he say, ‘Ladies hev ter be ez beautisome ez Cousin Editha ter hev beaus at command at her time of life.’ Oh, my! Oh, my! Cousin Sophy she say, ‘Cousin Editha is yit, ez she always war, a tremenjious flirt. I think I’ll try ter practise a leetle bit ter git my hand in, ef ever _I_ should hev occasion ter try.’ Oh, my! I’ll never furgit this visit ter Shaftesvul, the beauty-spot of the nation.”