"Because us folks got to work ain't no reason why them tony people over to the Perfessor's should call me a 'servant.' I guess I know I milk the cows, wash dishes, scrub floors, and do the washin' and ir'nin' every week, but I'm no 'servant,' I'm just as good any day as that good-fer-nothin' Perfesser's son," continued Sibylla, growing red in the face with indignation.

"Didn't I hear that worthless scamp, Fritz Schmidt, a-referrin' to me and a-sayin' to Miss Midleton fer the 'servant' to bring over the butter?
Betch yer life this here 'servant' ain't a-goin' to allow eddicated people to make a fool of her.

First chance I get I'll give that Perfesser a piece of my mind." Sibylla's opportunity came rather unexpectedly.

The gentle, mild-mannered Professor was on good terms with his sturdy, energetic neighbor, John Landis, and frequently visited him for a neighborly chat.

On this particular day he called as usual and found Sibvlla in the mood described.
"Good afternoon, Sibylla," said the Professor, good-naturedly.