"What'll you have?" said David to Mrs. Cullom, "dark meat? white meat?"
"Anything," she replied meekly, "I'm not partic'ler. Most any part of a turkey 'll taste good, I guess."
"All right," said David. "Don't care means a little o' both. I alwus know what to give Polly—piece o' the second jint an' the last-thing-over-the-fence. Nice 'n rich fer scraggly folks," he remarked. "How fer you, John?—little o' both, eh?" and he heaped the plate till our friend begged him to keep something for himself.
"Little too much is jes' right," he asserted.
When David had filled the plates and handed them along—Sairy was for bringing in and taking out; they did their own helping to vegetables and "passin'"—he hesitated a moment, and then got out of his chair and started in the direction of the kitchen door.
"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Bixbee in surprise. "Where you goin'?"
"Woodshed!" said David.
"Woodshed!" she exclaimed, making as if to rise and follow.
"You set still," said David. "Somethin' I fergot."
"What on earth?" she exclaimed, with an air of annoyance and bewilderment. "What do you want in the woodshed? Can't you set down an' let Sairy git it fer ye?"