"'Bubble, bubble,' 'Toil' and no 'trouble'—"
"Yet, worth speaking of," said my wife; "but it must come, I suppose."
"We won't go half-way to meet it, Winifred."
When the meal was over, Junior went out on the porch and returned with a mysterious sack.
"Butternuts!" he ejaculated.
Junior was winning his way truly, and in the children's eyes was already a good genius, as his father was in mine.
"O papa!" was the general cry, "can't we crack them on the hearth?"
"But you'll singe your very eyebrows off," I said.
"Mine's so white 'twouldn't matter," said Junior; "nobody'd miss 'em.
Give me a hammer, and I'll keep you goin'."
And he did, on one of the stones of the hearth, with such a lively rat-tat-snap! that it seemed a regular rhythm.