asses. Sarah was in one of her nagging moods,
he knew, and she disturbed him but little. The delight and the desire of
first love was upon him, and he was thinking rapturously of the big pine
that would go to the building of Molly's house.

Grandmother, who wanted syrup, began to cry softly because she must eat
her tasteless mush. "He's got the stomach to stand it," she repeated
bitterly, while her tears fell into her bowl.

"What is it, granny? Will you try a bite of buckwheat?" inquired Sarah
solicitously. She had never failed in her duty to her husband's parents,
and this virtue also, she was inclined to use as a weapon of offense to
her children.

"Give it to him--he's got teeth left to chaw on," whimpered grandmother,
and her old chest heaved with bitterness because grandfather, who was
three years the elder, still retained two jaw teeth on one side of his
mouth.

A yellow-and-white cat, after vainly purring against grandmother's
stool, had jumped on the window-sill in pursuit of a belated wasp, and
Sarah, rushing to the rescue of her flowers, cuffed the animal soundly
and placed her in grandfather's lap. He was a lover of cats--a harmless
fancy which was a source of unceasing annoyance to his wife.

"Abel, I wish you'd mend that leak in the smokehouse after breakfast,"
remarked Sarah, in an aggressive tone that meant battle. "Two shingles
are gone an' thare four more that want patchin'."

"I can't, I've got work to do at the mill," replied Abel, as he rose
from his chair. "Solomon Hatch sent me his corn to grind and he's coming
over to get the sacks."

"Well, I reckon I'm worth as much as Solomon Hatch, a little pasty faced
critter like that," rejoined Sarah.

"Why can't Archie do it? What is he good for?"

"I'm going hunting with Jim Halloween," returned Archie sullenly, "he's
got some young dogs he wants to break in to rabbit running."

"I might have known thar warn't nobody to do what I ask 'em," observed
Sarah in the voice and manner of a martyr. "It's rabbits or girls,
one or the other, and if it ain't an old hare it's some light-moraled
critter like Molly Merryweather."

Abel's face had changed to a dull red and his eyes blazed.

"Say anything against Molly, mother, an' I'll never speak to you again!"
he cried out angrily.

"Thar, thar, ma, you an' Abel are too pepper tongued to get into a
quarrel," remarked Abner, the silent, who seldom spoke except for the
promotion of peace. "I'll mend the