she hadn't ought to wear them in the time before the babies came,
'Gene never said a word, when he saw her doing it.

There, the butter was just almost there. She could hear the buttermilk
begin to swash! She turned her head to call to her mother-in-law to
bring a pitcher for the buttermilk, when a sound of galloping hoofs
echoed from the road. Nelly frowned, released her hold on the dasher,
listened an instant, and ran into the house. She went right upstairs to
her room as provoked as she could be. Well, she would make the bed and
do the room-work anyhow, so's not to waste _all_ that time. She'd be
that much ahead, anyhow. And as soon as Frank had finished chinning with
Mother Powers, and had gone, she'd go back and finish her churning. She
felt mad all through at the thought of that cream left at just the wrong
minute, just as it was separating. Suppose Frank hung round and _hung_
around, the way he did often, and the sun got higher and the cream got
too warm, and she'd have to put in ice, and go down cellar with it, and
fuss over it all the rest of the day? She was furious and thumped the
pillows hard, with her doubled-up fist. But if she went down, Frank'd
hang around worse, and talk so foolish she'd want to slap him. He wa'n't
more'n half-witted, sometimes, she thought. What was the _matter_ with
men, anyhow? They didn't seem to have as much sense as so many calves!
You'd think Frank would think up something better to do than to bother
the life out of busy folks, sprawling around all over creation the way
he did. But she never had any luck! Before Frank it had been that old
Mrs. Hewitt, nosing around to see what she could pick fault with in a
person's housekeeping, looking under the sink if you left her alone in
the kitchen for a minute, and opening your dresser drawers right before
your face and eyes. Well, Frank was getting to be most as much of a
nuisance. He didn't peek and snoop the way Mrs. Hewitt did, but he
_bothered_; and he was getting so impudent, too! He had the big-head
because he was the best dancer in the valley, that was what was the
matter with him, and he knew she liked to dance with him. Well, she did.
But she would like to dance with anybody who danced good. If 'Gene
didn't clump so with his feet, she'd love to dance with him. And Frank
needn't think he was so much either. That city man who was staying with
the old man next to the Crittendens was just as good a dancer as Frank,
just exactly as li