“No, sir, it’s her’n.”
“It’s both your faults, and you ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”
“I’m not,” said Sally; “and I wish I’d never seen him.”
“And I’m sure I wish the same,” said Jem despondently. “I never see such a temper.”
“There, Master Don,” cried the droll-looking little Dutch doll of a woman. “That’s how he is always going on.”
“There, Jem, now you’ve made your poor little wife cry. You are the most discontented fellow I ever saw.”
“Come, I like that, Master Don; you’ve a deal to brag about, you have. Why, you’re all at sixes and sevens at home.”
This was such a home thrust that Don turned angrily and walked out of the place.
“There!” cried Sally. “I always knew how it would be. Master Don was the best friend we had, and now you’ve offended him, and driven him away.”
“Shouldn’t ha’ said nasty things then,” grumbled Jem, sitting down and attacking his tea.