Part 7 (1/2)

The curd being pretty thoroughly churned up now, with the gyrations of the two children, it was settling in a smooth, even layer over the top of the whey. Zaidee slapped and splashed it about in high glee, perfectly satisfied to stay in the tank any length of time, now that she had Helen beside her there.

Just then steps sounded on the planks outside, and the voices of men were heard.

”Great guns! Who left this 'ere spigot a-runnin'!” exclaimed one, coming hastily forward. ”Look at the whey goin' galumphin out. Suthin' must hev gorn bust.”

A breathless silence settled on Zaidee and Helen.

”There warn't nothin' a-runnin' when I went off to dinner,” said another, ”and I was the last feller out.”

The next moment the astonished men were gazing at the pair of guilty-looking little mermaids, who wore curds for seaweeds. Helen's floating golden hair, all stringy with whey, was a funnier sight even than Zaidee's short plastered locks. The two frightened, dirty, streaming little faces, were raised appealingly.

”Wal, I vum! We've caught suthin' in _this_ cheese, for sure,” said one man, coming nearer.

”We falled in,” said Zaidee, regaining her courage, which never long deserted her. ”We don't like this white water, and it's all smelly.

Please take us out.”

”I swan,” said the other man. ”Where did you come from, young uns?”

”We live at the beach, at grandma's. Take us out, please. Take Helen first.”

”What are you doin' around here, then, a-tumblin' into our vats, and a-spilin' good curds and whey? You don't suppose we want to flavour it with little gals, do you?”

Zaidee wasn't sure of anything but that she wanted to get out of her new bath-tub, so she only repeated:

”Please take us out, Mr. Man, and we won't fall in again, ever, 'cause we don't like this white water, truly we don't. There are such funny little snow stones in it. We like really truly water best. Please take us out.”

”Was it you turned my spigot?” demanded her jailer, very sternly.

Zaidee quaked. She had forgotten about turning the spigot.

”We won't ever turn it again,” she promised, hastily.

”Oh, come, Steve, take the kid out,” said the other man.

”Ef it was one of our children they'd get a trouncin', but they belong to some of them city folks down by the beach. Them city children dunno nothin'--can't expect 'em to. Come, young uns,” and, in a moment, Zaidee and Helen stood on the planks.

”Sech capers!” grumbled the other man, setting down the dripping little figures he had lifted out. ”Hull batch spiled. Now, scoot.” And the children hastily scooted, leaving a milky track behind.

They had no idea of the way home, but, as Zaidee was not ready to return yet, that did not trouble her. Once outside of the cheese factory they got leaves and wiped off each other's dripping faces and hair, as best they could.

”My shoes are all soppy,” said Helen, tiptoeing along, uncomfortably.

”Let's take 'em off,” said Zaidee, instantly, sitting down and tugging at the wet b.u.t.tonholes, which would not yield to her small fingers.

Helen's were loose, and unb.u.t.toned easily. When she got her shoes off, however, she found she could not walk, for the sticks and p.r.i.c.kles on the ground hurt her tender feet.

”I'll have to put my shoes on again,” she said. ”The palms of my feet hurt so. Don't take yours off, Zaidee.”

So Zaidee got up out of the little pool of whey that had dripped from her dress while she had been sitting, and after Helen had, with some difficulty, crowded her feet into her wet shoes again, the children started off in search of a new adventure. The hot sun on their clothes was fast making them very unpleasant objects to a sensitive nose, but they were getting used to the odour of sour milk.