mess of poke,
tobacco and what-not brewed in the kitchen arch-kettle. Now you hear me,
Joseph. Last year you stewed it there and you nearly drove us out of the
house. Such a stench I never smelled. It made me sick all night and
filled the whole house. I said then it should never come into the
kitchen again. You must take the other kettle and set it up out of
doors."

"Aren't you growing a little fussy, Ruth?" replied the Old Squire,
evidently to rally her, for he laughed roguishly.

"Maybe I am," replied Gram, shortly. "If you were a little more 'fussy'
about some things, it would be no failing."

This bit of fencing amused Addison and Theodora very much; and I began
to surmise that good-humored as grandmother habitually was, she yet had
a will of her own and was determined to regulate her domain indoors in
the way she deemed suitable.

"Well, we will boil the stuff out of doors this year," replied the Old
Squire. "It is not the kind of perfumery women-folks like to smell," he
added, teasingly.

"Now don't try to be funny about it," rejoined Gram severely. "I never
ran you much in debt for perfumery, as you know. But I don't think it
is quite fair for a man to bring such a nauseous mess as that into the
kitchen to stew, then run off and leave it for the women-folks to stand
over and stir, and finally leave the dirty kettle for them to scrub out
the next day!"

"Hold on, Ruth! Hold on. You've let out a great deal more than I wanted
you to, now!" cried the Old Squire. "I remember now, I did forget that
kettle last year. 'Twas too bad. I don't blame you, Ruth Ann, I don't
blame you in the least for grumbling about it."

With that Gram looked up and laughed, but still gave her head a slight
toss.

I watched for a day or two a little anxiously, to see if she really
cherished any resentment, but soon discovered that there was no real
ill-feeling; it was only Gram's way of holding her ground and standing
for her house rights.

As we went out to get shovels and the two baskets, I ventured to ask
Addison, confidentially, whether Gram were really severe. "No!" said he.
"She's all right. She touches the Old Squire up a little once in awhile,
when he needs it; she always gets him foul, too. I suppose he doesn't
try very hard to hold up his end, but she always floors him when they
get to sparring. Then he will laugh and say something to patch things up
again. O they never really quarrel. Gramp once said to me, as we wer