The Deacon said, "All right, all right! We'll fix it up!" but he didn't feel so sure of it after that, though he set to work bravely.
The sun, growing warmer, fell with pleasant gleam around the kitchen door and around the chip-pile where the hens were burrowing. The men worked in their shirt-sleeves.
"Well, now, we'll share the furniture an' stuff next," said the Deacon, looking around upon his little interested semicircle of spectators. "Now, put Emmy's things over there and Serry's things over here. I'll call 'em off, and, if they's no objection, you girls can pass 'em over."
He cleared his throat and began in the voice of one in authority:—
"Thirteen pans, six to Emmy, seven to Serry;" then hastened to add: "I'll balance that by giving the biggest of the two kittles to Emmy. Rollin' pin and cake board to Serry, two flat-irons to Emmy, small tub to Emmy, large one to Serry, balanced by the tin water pail. Dozen clo'se-pins; half an' half, six o' one, half-dozen t'other," he said with a smile at his own joke, while the others actively placed the articles in separate piles.
"Stove to Serry, because she has the house, bureau to Emmy."
At this point Mrs. Gray said, "I guess that ain't quite even, Deacon; the bureau ain't worth much."
"Oh, no, no, that's all right! Let her have it," Emma protested nervously.
"Give her an extry tick, anyway," said Sarah, not to be outdone in magnanimity.
"Settle that between ye," said the Deacon.