"Oh, I'll bring you milk fast enough on Sundays, if you give me the word," he said with nonchalance.
"Only it won't last long." "How do you mean--'won't last long' ?", asked Mrs.Ware, briskly.
The boy liked her--both for herself, and for the doughnuts fried with her own hands, which she gave him on his morning round.

He dropped his half-defiant tone.
"The thing of it's this," he explained.

"Every new minister starts in saying we can deliver to this house on Sundays, an' then gives us notice to stop before the month's out.

It's the trustees that does it." The Rev.Theron Ware uncrossed his feet and moved out on to the stoop beside his wife.

"What's that you say ?" he interjected.