“Ed Church don't drink,” retorted Aunt Ann sharply.
“How about that time two years ago last summer? Waren't Ed Church drunk over at the Royalton Fair?”
“Yes, he was,” answered Aunt Ann, “and that's the only time. But so was my father drunk once at a barn-raisin' when he was a boy, for I've heerd him tell it; and I guess my father, William H. Pickering, was as good as any Lee who ever greased his boots. One swallow don't make a summer, and one drunk don't make a drunkard. Ed Church told me himself that he ain't took a drop since.”
“I'm goin' to break up this nonsense between him and Lide, at any rate,” said Jim Lee. His mood was dogged, and it served to irritate Aunt Ann.
“All you've got ag'inst Ed Church, father,” said Aunt Ann, “is that his father voted ag'in you for pathmaster, and I'm glad he did. What under the sun you ever wanted to be pathmaster for, and go about ploughin' up good roads to make 'em bad, was more'n I could see. I'm glad you was beat.”
“I'm goin' to stop this Church boy hangin' 'round Lide, jest the same,” was the closing remark of Jim Lee. At this point he went out to the barn to put some straw in the cutter and harness the Morgan colt. Aunt Ann turned again to her duties.
“Father is so exasperatin',” remarked Aunt Ann, as she poured some boiling water over a dozen slices of salt pork to “freshen it,” in the line of preparing them for the evening frying-pan. “He'll find out, though, that I'll have a tolerable lot to say about Lide's marriage.”