"Si Meakin never could catch fish even when he was boy goin' to school. He was always a gabbler, an' fish has got sense. They won't bite for noisy folks. Slow an' gentle, bide your time an' keep your mouth shut—that's fishin' for ye. Oh, shall I ever get to go again!"
"Sure. But it's time for your chicken broth. I've stewed it down rich an' tasty, an' there's one good thing 'bout broken legs an' ribs: they ain't broken stummicks. I'd ruther you'd have forty broken legs than the dyspepsy, 'cause when I take the pains to cook good victuals, I like to have 'em et. Now, turn your head a mite. Here's a nice new straw to drink your broth through, an' a pile more for you to chew on, like you're always doin'. Seems if a man must always have somethin' in his mouth, an' if it ain't tobacco it's straws. Spriggs he—"
"Don't give me no 'Spriggs,' to-day; I couldn't stand him. You've told more things 'at Spriggs done in his thirty years of life than would ha' kept most men busy till they was a hundered!" cried Moses, petulantly. "And if Kitty Keehoty, or Monty, ary one, comes 'round, do for pity's sake send 'em up. Here I lie, ball-an'-chained to a bed and things—Oh, dear!"
It was Saturday and a busy time for the housekeeper. She had neither leisure nor inclination to argue with a fretful patient, so went away and left him to himself. But she found his desire for Katharine's society an excellent thing. As she had said of Deacon Meakin, "it kep' her out of mischief" to act as nurse to the injured farmer, and he now delighted in her. The stories of her old life in the Southern city were almost like the fairy-tales she retold from printed books; and her little provincialisms of speech amused him as much as his country dialect did her. She had soon dropped into the habit of taking his meal-trays to him and strictly enforced his eating a "right smart" of all the nourishments provided.
At noon of this Saturday she was perched upon the edge of his cot, daintily feeding him with bits of food she had cut up, when there was a clatter of feet upon the stairs, and, breathless as usual, Montgomery rushed in, announcing, without even a nod to Moses:
"I-it-it's true! Mis' Turner's seen it in her w-w-wood-shed! Widow Sprigg wasn't m-m-mis-took!"
"Say 'mistaken,' Montgomery Sturtevant, and say it slow," corrected Katharine, severely, yet immediately turning an inquiring look toward Uncle Moses. Thus far her efforts to improve her playmate's speech had been a safe secret between the two. They hoped to keep it such until the lad could speak a "whole piece" without stammering.
But the hired man had not observed her remark, or, if he had, probably considered it but one of her naturally dictatorial sort.
"A reg'lar tramp, Monty?" he asked, eagerly.
"R-r-r-regular. Mis' Turner'd put her p-p-pies out to cool on the wood-shed r-r-roof an' they was six seven of 'em, an', sir, w-w-w-when she went t-t-t-to take 'em in one was g-one! Yes, sir! An' she seen somethin' b-b-b-lack scooting cross lots, l-l-li-lic-lick—ety c-c-c-ut!"