"But she was comin' back! And I wanted to ask--"

"I guess you asked enough for one while. Ask the rest to-morra."

Mrs. Lander was a woman who could often be thrown aside from an immediate
purpose, by the suggestion of some remoter end, which had already,
perhaps, intimated itself to her. She said, "That's true," but by the
time her husband had driven down one of the roads beyond the woods into
open country, she was a quiver of intolerable curiosity. "Well, all I've
got to say is that I sha'n't rest till I know all about 'em."

"Find out when we get back to the hotel, I guess," said her husband.

"No, I can't wait till I get back to the hotel. I want to know now. I
want you should stop at the very fust house we come to. Dea'! The'e don't
seem to be any houses, any moa." She peered out around the side of the
carry-all and scrutinized the landscape. "Hold on! No, yes it is, too!
Whoa! Whoa! The'e's a man in that hay-field, now!"

She laid hold of the reins and pulled the horse to a stand. Mr. Lander
looked round over his shoulder at her. "Hadn't you betta wait till you
get within half a mile of the man?"

"Well, I want you should stop when you do git to him. Will you? I want to
speak to him, and ask him all about those folks."

"I didn't suppose you'd let me have much of a chance," said her husband.
When he came within easy hail of the man in the hay-field, he pulled up
beside the meadow-wall, where the horse began to nibble the blackberry