"Mrs. T., I will be calm," was the dignified reply, "calm as the surface of Mount Ætna, on the eve of an eruption. Farewell, love, for a moment. Have an eye to the wheelbarrow while I have a settlement with this scoundrel!"
With these words, Tubbs marched up the hill. He entered the hourly office, and looked round him. His first glance lighted on a young man who answered the description given by Mrs. Tubbs; but he wished to make assurance doubly sure, and so he accosted him politely,—
"Fine growing weather, sir."
"Yes, sir," replied the stranger.
"Peas are doing finely," said Mr. Tubbs.
"Indeed!"
"If the weather holds, we can plant corn next week."
"Indeed!"
"Pray, sir," continued Tubbs, "did you come out in the last coach?"