"How you've humbugged me! It's too hot."

"Oh, you've got to do it; you promised. You can't stay here unless you do."

"So you are going to take care of me as if I were a small boy?"

"You need care--sometimes."

He soon came back and asked, "Now may I stay?"

"Yes. Please untie the dog. Butter's come."

"I should think it would, or anything else at your coaxing."

"Oh-h, what a speech! Hasn't that a pretty golden hue?" she asked, holding up
a mass of the butter she was ladling from the churn into a wooden tray.

"Yes, you are making the gilt-edge article now. I don't have to sell it to
Tom Watterly any more."

"I'd like to give him some, though."

He was silent, and something like sudden rage burned in his heart that Mrs.
Watterly would not permit the gift. That anyone should frown on his having
such a helper as Alida was proving herself to be, made him vindictive.
Fortunately her face was turned away, and she did not see his heavy frown.
Then, to shield her from a disagreeable fact, he said quickly, "do you know
that for over a year I steadily went behind my expenses . And that your butter
making has turned the tide already? I'm beginning to get ahead again."