melia began carrying the dishes to the
sink. Her mind was a little hazy now; her next move must depend on his,
and cousin Josiah, somewhat drowsy from his good dinner, was not at once
inclined to talk. Suddenly he raised his head snakily from those sunken
shoulders, and pointed a lean finger to the window.

"'Melia!" cried he sharply. "I'll be buttered if he ain't been and
traded off both your cows. My Lord! be you goin' to stan' there an' let
them two cows go?"

Amelia gave one swift glance from the window, following the path marked
out by that insinuating index. It was true. Elbridge was driving her two
cows out of the yard, and her husband stood by, watching him. She walked
quietly into the entry, and Josiah laid his old hands together in the
rapturous certainty that she was going to open the door, and send her
anger forth. But Amelia only took down his butternut coat from the nail,
and returned with it, holding it ready for him to insert his arms.

"Here's your coat," said she, with that strange, deceptive calmness.
"Stan' up, an' I'll help you put it on."

Josiah looked at her with helplessly open mouth, and eyes so vacuous
that Amelia felt, even at that moment, the grim humor of his plight.

"I was in hopes he'd harness up"--he began, but she ruthlessly cut him
short.

"Stan' up! Here, put t' other arm in fust. This han'kercher yours? Goes
round your neck? There 't is. Here's your hat. Got any mittens? There
they be, in your pocket. This way. This is the door you come in, an'
this is the door you'll go out of." She preceded him, her head thrown
up, her shoulders back. Amelia had no idea of dramatic values, but she
was playing an effective part. She reached the door and flung it open,
but Josiah, a poor figure in its huddled capes, still stood abjectly in
the middle of the kitchen. "Come!" she called peremptorily. "Come,
Josiah Pease! Out you go." And Josiah went, though, contrary to his
usual habit, he did not talk. He quavered uncertainly down the steps,
and Amelia called a halt. "Josiah Pease!"

He turned, and looked up at her. His mouth had dropped, and he was
nothing but a very helpless old child. Vicious as he was, Amelia
realized the mental poverty of her adversary, and despised herself for
despising him. "Josiah Pease!" she repeated. "This is the end. Don't you
darken my doors ag'in. I've done with you,--egg an' bird!" She closed
the door, shutting out Josiah and the keen spring wind, and went back t