grocery he sells my butter to would agree to take any amount I could
send them at a still larger price. If we could hold on to the place,
buy more cows and all the milk other people in Sweetbriar have to sell
I believe I could make the interest and more than the interest every
year. But if Mr. Newsome needs the money, I am afraid--he might not
like to wait. It would be a year before I could see exactly how things
succeed--and that's a long time."

"Yes, and it would mean for you to just be a-turning yourself into
meat and drink for the family, nothing more or less, Rose Mary. You
work like you was a single filly hitched to a two-horse wagon now, and
that would be just piling fence rails on top of the load of hay you
are already a-drawing for all of us old live stock. You couldn't work
all that butter."

"Don't you know that love mixed in the bread of life makes it easy for
the woman to work a large batch for her family, Uncle Tucker?--and why
not butter? Will you talk to Mr. Newsome the next time he comes and
see what he thinks of the plan? I would tell him about it
myself--only I--I don't know why, but I don't--want to." Rose Mary
blushed and looked away across the Road, but her confusion was all
unnoticed by Uncle Tucker, who was busily lighting a second pipeful of
tobacco.

"Yes, I'll talk to him and Crabtree both about it," he answered
slowly. "I can't hardly bear the idea of your doing it, child, and if
it was just me I wouldn't hear tell of it, but Sister Viney and Sister
Amandy--moved they'd be like a couple of sprouts of their own
honeysuckle vine that you had pulled up and left in the sun to wilt.
Home was a place to grow in for women of their day, not just a-kinder