His father laughed and said: “Well, when I’m the little Tommy, I’ll brush the snarls off my face—so, and throw them under the wheels—so, and let ’em get run over!”
This made Tommy laugh, and very soon after we came to the bars.
I looked ahead and saw a neat white house, not very large, with green blinds and a piazza, where flowering plants were climbing. There was a garden on one side and an orchard on the other. Just across the garden stood an old, brown, unpainted house. There were tall apple-trees growing near it, that looked about a hundred years old. My friend, Uncle Jacob,—I’ve heard him called Uncle Jacob so much since that I really don’t know how to put a Mister to his name,—said those were Summer Sweeting trees, that had pretty nigh done bearing. He said there used to be Summer Sweeting trees growing all about there; and that when he took part of the place, and built him a house, he cut down the ones on his land, and set out Baldwins and Tallmans and Porters; but his mother kept her’s for the good they had done, and for the sake of what few apples they did bear, to give away to the children.
The houses had their backs towards me, and I was glad of that, for I always like back doors better than front ones.
Uncle Jacob whistled, and I saw a blind fly open, and a handkerchief wave from an upper window, where two girls were sitting. Uncle Jacob’s wife stepped to the door and waved a sunbonnet, and then stepped back again.
“Here, Tommy,” said Uncle Jacob, “you carry in the magazine to Lucy Maria, and here’s Matilda’s gum-arabic. I don’t see where Towser is.”
I jumped out, and said I guessed I would keep on; for I began to feel bashful about seeing so many women-folks.
“Where you going to keep on to?” Uncle Jacob asked. “This road don’t go any farther.”
I said I would walk across the fields to the next village and find a hotel.
“O no,” said he, “stay here. Grandmother’ll be glad enough to hear about the contrabands. She’ll knit stockings, and pick up a good deal about the house to send off. And I want to ask much as five hundred questions more about matters and things myself. Come, stay. Yes, we’ll give you a good supper, a first-rate supper. Don’t be afraid. My wife’ll—There! I forgot her errand, now! But if you—Whoa! whoa! Georgiana, take this pattern in to your Aunt Phebe, and tell her I forgot to see if I could match it; but I don’t believe the man had any like it.”