It was Pomona, and she had a milk-pail on her arm.
"See here, sir," she said, "it's mor'n half full.

I just made up my mind that I'd learn to milk--if it took me all night.

I didn't go to bed at all, and I've been at the barn fur an hour.

And there ain't no need of my goin' after no man in the mornin'," said she, hanging up the barn key on its nail.
I simply mention this circumstance to show what kind of a girl Pomona had grown to be.
We were all the time at work in some way, improving our little place.
"Some day we will buy it," said Euphemia.

We intended to have some wheat put in in the fall and next year we would make the place fairly crack with luxuriance.