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Daviess, Maria Thompson, 1872-1924

"Rose of Old Harpeth"


She just looks for the door and don't ask to know who is going to open
it from the other side. Our door is there I know--I have been looking
for it for a long time. Right now it looks like a cow gate to me," and
a little reluctant smile came over Rose Mary's grave face as if she
were being forced to give up a cherished secret before she were ready
for the revelation.
"And if the gate sticks, Rose Mary, I believe you'll climb the fence
and pull us all over, whether or no," answered Uncle Tucker with a
slightly comforted expression coming into his eyes. "You're one of the
women who knot a bridle out of a horse's own tail to drive him with.
Have you got this scheme already geared up tight, ready to start?"
"It's only that Mr. Crabtree brought word from town that the big
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.


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