I'll take the biggest--that one under the milk-house." Whereat they jeered at him for wanting to be close to Evadna.
"Well, who has a better right ?" he challenged, and then inconsiderately left them before they could think of a sufficiently biting retort.
So they went to work, each in his own way, agreeing mostly in untiring industry.

That is how Miss Georgie found them occupied--except that Good Indian had stopped long enough to soothe Evadna and her aunt, and to explain that the water would really not rise much higher in the milk-house, and that he didn't believe Evadna's pet bench at the head of the pond would be inaccessible because of his efforts.
Phoebe was sloshing around upon the flooded floor of her milk-house, with her skirts tucked up and her indignation growing greater as she gave it utterance, rescuing her pans of milk and her jars of cream.
Evadna, upon the top step, sat with her feet tucked up under her as if she feared an instant inundation.

She, also, was giving utterance to her feminine irritation at the discomfort--of her aunt presumably, since she herself was high and dry.
"And it won't do a BIT of good.

They'll just knock that dam business all to pieces to-night--" She was scolding Grant.
"Swearing, chicken?
Things must be in a great state!" Grant grinned at Miss Georgie, forgetting for the moment his rebuff that morning.

"She did swear, didn't she ?" he confirmed wickedly.