"I spose you are," she answered crossly. "You'll see when it's on the table."
She took a coal of fire with the tongs, and blew it fiercely, to light a lamp by. When it was alight, she set it on the chimney-shelf, revealing thereby a man at the back of the room, balancing his chair on two legs against the wail; his feet were on its highest round, and he twirled his thumbs.
"Hum," he said, when he saw me observing him; "this is the oldest darter, is it?"
"Yes," Temperance bawled.
"She is a good solid gal; but I can't recollect her christened name."
"It is Cassandra."
"Why, 'taint Scriptur'."
"Why don't you go and take off your things?" Temperance asked, abruptly.
"I'll leave them here; the fire is agreeable."
"There is a better fire in the keeping-room."