Martha ran out. “Y'are welcome, y'are welcome; and so is your—Eh! Why it's our Jael. 'Tis no avail to hide thy face, thou jade; I know every bit o' thee.” And Patty had her out of the gig in a moment, and there was a cuddling match it did one good to see.
Henry perked up for a moment and offered a suggestion. “Some of that ought to come my way, for bringing her here.”
“Oh, you'll get enough o' that fun before you die,” said Patty. “Now come you in; the carter's boy will take the horse.”
They went in and greeted the old farmer; and soon the bell began to ring for church, and Nathan Dence told Martha to put on her bonnet.
“La, father!” said she, piteously.
“She prefers to stay at home and chat with Jael,” said Henry. The fact is, he wanted to be rid of them both.
Old Dence shook his head. He was one of those simple, grand, old rustic Christians, who have somehow picked out the marrow of religion, and left the devil the bone, yclept theology. “What?” said he, “my lasses! can't ye spare God a slice out of his own day?”
“Nay, it is not that, father.”
The old man continued his remonstrance. “To be sure our Jael is a cordial. But she'll dine and sup with us. Take my word for 't, all lawful pleasures are sweeter on the Lord's day after a bit o' church.”
“And so they are, father; but dear heart! to think of you forgetting. Will nobody tell him? They're sworn to give me a red face, Jael and all.”