But the cloud was ri-sing in the horizon although I saw it not.
"It was about twenty-five minutes after eleven, on the morning of a Thursday, that I sat pondering in my mind the ques-ti-on what to do with the butter and the veg-et-ables.

Here was butter, and here was green corn and lima-beans and trophy tomats, far more than I ere could use.
And here was a horse, idly cropping the fol-i-age in the field, for as my employer had advis-ed and order-ed I had put the steed to grass.

And here was a wagon, none too new, which had it the top taken off, or even the curtains roll-ed up, would do for a li-cen-ced vender.

With the truck and butter, and mayhap some milk, I could load that wagon--" "O, Pomona," interrupted Euphemia.

"You don't mean to say that you were thinking of doing anything like that ?" "Well, I was just beginning to think of it," said Pomona, "but of course I couldn't have gone away and left the house.