The 'muddy Missouri' certainly doesn't apply here. And
that farther shore is simply magnificent. I wish I might stay here
forever."
"The Lord forbid!" cried he, with considerable fervor. "There's a dear
nook in old England where I hope--"
"You did get that mud off your leggings, I see," Beatrice remarked
inconsequentially. "James must have worked half the time we've been
here. They certainly were in a mess the last time I saw them."
"Bother the leggings! But I take it that's a good sign, Miss
Lansell--your taking notice of such things."
Beatrice returned to the landscape. "I wonder who originated that
phrase, 'The cattle grazing on a thousand hills'? He must have stood
just here when he said it."
"Wasn't it one of your American poets? Longfellow, or--er--"
Beatrice simply looked at him a minute and said "Pshaw!"
"Well," he retorted, "you don't know yourself who it was."
"And to think," Beatrice went on, ignoring the subject, "some of those
grazing cows and bossy calves are mine--my very own. I never cared
before, or thought much about it, till I came out and saw where they
live, and Dick pointed to a cow and the sweetest little red and white
calf, and said: 'That's your cow and calf, Trix.' They were dreadfully
afraid of me, though--I'm afraid they didn't recognize me as their
mistress.
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