collect the eggs, and milk the cows, and churn butter and fix the garden
truck! Oh, it's easy for girls and women on a farm--all they have to do
is a few little things like that. The men do all the hard work. You
wouldn't let your wife do more than that, would you, Walter?"

The boy flushed.

"When I get married, I'm aimin' to have a hired gal to do all them
chores," he said. "They's some farmers seem to think when they marry
they're just gettin' an extra lot of hired help they don't have to pay
fer, but we don't figger that way in these parts. No, ma'am."

He looked shyly at Dolly as he spoke, and Dolly, who was an
accomplished little flirt, saw the look and understood it very well. She
tossed her pretty head.

"You needn't look at me that way, Walt Stubbs," she said. "I'm never
going to marry any farmer--so there! I'm going to marry a rich man, and
live in the city, and have my own automobile and all the servants I
want, and never do anything at all unless I like. So you needn't waste
your breath telling me what a good time your wife is going to have."

Walter, already as brown as a berry from the hot sun under which he
worked every day, turned redder than he had been before, if that was
possible. But, wisely, he made no attempt to answer Dolly. He had
already been inveigled into two or three arguments with the sharp witted
girl from the city, and he had no mind for any more of the cutting
sarcasm with which she had withered him up each time just as he thought
he had got the best of her.