“I’ve got more to go on than that,” said Jonathan. “I came up on the train with the Judge. He used to see it done.”
“You’ve got to drive Janet over to her train to-night; Hiram can’t,” I said.
“All right. There’s time enough.”
We sat down to early supper, and took turns running out to the kitchen to “try” the syrup as it boiled down. At least we said we would take turns, but usually we all three went. Supper seemed distinctly a side issue.
“I’m going to take it off now,” said Jonathan. “Look out!”
“Do you think it’s time?” I demurred.
“We’ll know soon,” said Jonathan, with his usual composure.
We hung over him. “Now you beat it,” I said. But he was already beating.
“Get some cold water to set it in,” he commanded. We brought the dishpan with water from the well, where ice still floated.
“Maybe you oughtn’t to stir so much—do you think?” I suggested, helpfully. “Beat it more—up, you know.”