I looked for the
bright tin dipper which always hung by the pump. It was not there.
But I had a traveling-cup in my pocket, and as I was taking it out
I looked around me. There was an air of bareness over everything.
I did not know what it all meant, but I know that my hand trembled
as I took hold of the pump-handle and began to pump.
At the first sound of the pump-handle I heard a deep bark in the
direction of the barn, and then furiously around the corner came
Lord Edward. Before I had filled the cup he was bounding about me.
I believe the glad welcome of the dog did more to revive Euphemia
than the water. He was delighted to see us, and in a moment up
came Pomona, running from the barn. Her face was radiant, too. We
felt relieved. Here were two friends who looked as if they were
neither sold nor ruined.
Pomona quickly saw that we were ill at ease, and before I could put
a question to her, she divined the cause. Her countenance fell.
"You know," said she, "you said you wasn't comin' till to-morrow.
If you only HAD come then--I was goin' to have everything just
exactly right--an' now you had to climb in--"
And the poor girl looked as if she might cry, which would have been
a wonderful thing for Pomona to do.
"Tell me one thing," said I. "What about--those taxes?"
"Oh, that's all right," she cried. "Don't think another minute
about that. I'll tell you all about it soon. But come in first,
and I'll get you some lunch in a minute.
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