Euphemia got into the wagon to ride back with him, that she might give some parting injunctions to Pomona.
"I'll have to stop a bit to put up the fences, ma'am," said old John, "or Misther Ball might make a fuss." "Is this Mr.Ball's land ?" I asked.
"Oh yes, sir, it's Mr.Ball's land." "I wonder how he'll like our camping on it ?" I said, thoughtfully.
"I'd 'a' thought, sir, you'd 'a' asked him that before you came," said old John, in a tone that seemed to indicate that he had his doubts about Mr.Ball.
"Oh, there'll be no trouble about that," cried Euphemia.

"You can drive me past Mr.Ball's,--it's not much out of the way,--and I'll ask him." "In that wagon ?" said I."Will you stop at Mr.Ball's door in that ?" "Certainly," said she, as she arranged herself on the board which served as a seat.

"Now that our campaign has really commenced, we ought to begin to rough it, and should not be too proud to ride even in a--in a--" She evidently couldn't think of any vehicle mean enough for her purpose.
"In a green-grocery cart," I suggested.
"Yes, or in a red one.

Go ahead, John." When Euphemia returned on foot, I had a fire in the camp-stove and the kettle was on.
"Well," said Euphemia, "Mr.Ball says it's all right, if we keep the fence up.

He don't want his cows to get into the creek, and I'm sure we don't want 'em walking over us.