I wonder if she'd be mad," she drawled, "if I went
out and told her to shut up. It sounds as if somebody was dead, or going to
die or something. Like Lite says your dog will howl if anything --"
"Oh, for pity sake!" Rosemary pushed her into the living room with
make-believe savageness. "I've heard her and Luck sing that last winter. And
there's a kind of a teetery dance that goes with it. It's supposed to be a
mourning song, as Luck explains it. But don't pay any attention to her at all.
She just does it to get on our nerves. It'd tickle her to death if she thought
it made us nervous."
"And now the dog is joining in on the chorus! I must say they're a cheerful
pair to have around the house. And I know one thing--if they keep that up much
longer, I'll either get out there with a gun, or saddle up and follow the
boys."
"They'd tease us to death, Jean, if we let Annie run us out."
"It's run or be run," Jean retorted irritatedly. "I wanted to write poetry
today--I thought of an awfully striking sentence about the--for heaven's sake,
where's a shotgun?"
"Jean, you wouldn't!" Rosemary, I may here explain, was very femininely afraid
of guns. "She'd--why, there's no telling WHAT she might do! Luck says she
carries a knife.
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