It is true that I had
consumed two of the hot grogs, but my mind was clear enough, and both
my companions applauded this resolution.
"If he can just get his mind off clothes for a bit he might amount to
something," said Cousin Egbert, and it will scarcely be credited, but
at the moment I felt actually grateful to him for this admission.
"We'll think about his case," said the Mixer, taking her own second
toddy, whereupon the two fell to talking of other things, chiefly of
their cattle plantations and the price of beef-stock, which then
seemed to be six and one half, though what this meant I had no notion.
Also I gathered that the Mixer at her own cattle-farm had been
watching her calves marked with her monogram, though I would never
have credited her with so much sentiment.
When the retiring hour came, Cousin Egbert and I prepared to take our
blankets outside to sleep, but the Mixer would have none of this.
"The last time I slept in here," she remarked, "mice was crawling over
me all night, so you keep your shack and I'll bed down outside. I
ain't afraid of mice, understand, but I don't like to feel their feet
on my face."
And to my great dismay, though Cousin Egbert took it calmly enough,
she took a roll of blankets and made a crude pallet on the ground
outside, under a spreading pine tree.
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