“What!” cried Andrew McCulloch. “Do you mean to say, you aided and abetted, Mr. Pemberton—”
“Peace and connubiality was his last words,” went on Stevey Todd, following his train of thought. “Peace and connubiality, he says, and he meant the same.”
“Ain't the same!” said Uncle Abimelech.
“Do you mean to say,” cried Andrew McCulloch—
“Don't throw nothin' till you pour off the bilin',” said Uncle Abimelech uneasily. “It ain't right.”
Andrew McCulloch puffed, “Whew! whew! whew!” as if blowing off the steam of his boiling. Then he said:
“Give me some of that, hot!”
And we all fell silent again.
The kettle sang, the chimney coughed in its throat. One heard outside the whistle of the wind, the moan of the surf far off in the night, and the snow snapping against the windows.
The clock struck ten.