"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.
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