Farmer's magazine (January-December 1920) . eet. Thats just whats thematter with me. I am always letting walk past and then when Itry to grab him I catch hold of his baldspot and he slips away. Well, well, said Uncle Neil, I dontthink hes walked past you very but nineteen to-day. Im sure thats bad enough. Thatsnearly twenty, and then youre out ofyour teens. When I was eleven I made asolemn vow that Id get a good educationand go away off somewhere and attendcollege and be a lady. And here I am atnineteen, still feeding the pigs and milkmgthe cows. I guess I havent any
Farmer's magazine (January-December 1920) . eet. Thats just whats thematter with me. I am always letting walk past and then when Itry to grab him I catch hold of his baldspot and he slips away. Well, well, said Uncle Neil, I dontthink hes walked past you very but nineteen to-day. Im sure thats bad enough. Thatsnearly twenty, and then youre out ofyour teens. When I was eleven I made asolemn vow that Id get a good educationand go away off somewhere and attendcollege and be a lady. And here I am atnineteen, still feeding the pigs and milkmgthe cows. I guess I havent any of theLindsay luck. The Lindsay luck was always spelledwith a p in front, my lass, and a capitalP at that. You can have all of that yewant. They went back up the blossommgorchard path, stopping at the pump,which was mid-way to the house, to takeup a pail of water. They left it at theback door under the vines, and UncleNeil went round to the garden at the otherside of the old rambling house, to help hissister with her onions. Christina ran.
Size: 1692px × 1477px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjectagriculture, bookyear
