you wouldn't have sot and been dictated to like a tame
noodle, as I did!"

"I didn't say _a tame noodle_."

"Yes, ye did. I might have answered back sharp enough, but I was
expectin' _you_ to speak. _Men_ don't like to dispute with _women_."

"That's your git-off," said Mrs. Ducklow, trembling with vexation. "You
was jest as much afraid of her as I was. I never see ye so cowed in all
my life."

"Cowed! I wasn't cowed, neither. How unreasonable, now, for you to cast
all the blame on to me!"

And Mr. Ducklow, his features contracted into a black scowl, took his
boots from the corner.

"Ye ha'n't got to go out, have ye?" said Mrs. Ducklow. "I shouldn't
think you'd put on yer boots jest to step to the barn and see to the
hoss."

"I'm goin' over to Reuben's."

"To Reuben's! Not to-night, father!"

"Yes, I think I better. He and Sophrony'll know we heard of his gittin'
home, and they're enough inclined a'ready to feel we neglect 'em.
Haven't ye got somethin' ye can send?"

"I don't know,"--curtly. "I've scurce ever been over to Sophrony's, but
I've carried her a pie or cake or something; and mighty little thanks I
got for it, as it turns out!"

"Why didn't ye say that to Miss Beswick, when she was runnin' us so hard
about our never doin' anything for 'em?"

"'T wouldn't have done no good; I knew jest what she'd say. 'What's a
pie or a cake now and then?'--that's jest the reply she'd have
made.--Dear me! what have I been doing?"

Mrs. Ducklow, rising, had but just discovered that she had stitched the
patch and the trousers to her apron.

"So much for Miss Beswick!" she exclaimed, untying the apron-strings,
and flinging the united garments spitefully down upon a chair. "I do
wish such folks would mind their own business and stay to home!"

"You've got the bonds safe?" said Mr. Ducklow, putting on his waistcoat.

"Yes; but I won't engage to keep 'em safe. They make me as narvous as
can be. I'm afraid to be left alone in the house with 'em. Here, you
take 'em."

"Don't be foolish. What harm can possibly happen to them or you while
I'm away? You don't s'pose I want to lug them around with me wherever I
go, do ye?"

"I'm sure it's no great lug. I s'pose you're afraid to go acrost the
fields alone with 'em in yer pocket. What in the world we're going to do
with 'em I don't see. If we go out, we can't take 'em with us, for fear
of losing 'em, or of being robbed; and we sha'n't dare to leave 'em to
home, fear