CHAPTER XIII.
LIFE ON A FARM.
TOM was allowed very little time for reflection, for the shrill voice of the mother speedily broke in upon his meditations.
“Now, boys,” said she, “where’s your manners? Get chairs an’ set down to onct. You, Franklin Pierce, quit shakin’ your head that ar’ way. You needn’t think that Tommy is goin’ to wrastle with you, an’ be tumbled round in the dust an’ mud, with his fine clothes on. He’s a gentleman, he is; an’ I want all you boys to watch him, an’ do just as he does. I’m so glad you have come,” she added, turning to Tom, “for maybe our boys’ll learn manners, now. They’re all good boys, but they’re so wild an’ playful like. I have a heap of trouble to make ’em behave themselves proper, like they had oughter do.”
“Dad, dad!” screamed Zachary Taylor at this moment, scrambling up the steps into the house; “that John Warren won’t let me ride Dobbin to water. Make him do it, dad.”
The farmer, however, paid no attention to his son’s complaint, but sat gazing out at the door, as if he was not aware that he had been spoken to. The boy then appealed to his mother.
“Now, mam,” he cried, “I want to ride Dobbin.”
“You, John Warren,” screamed the mother, with all the strength of her lungs, “let your little brother ride that ar’ hoss to onct. I’ll take the wagon whip to you, sure an’ sartin.”
Zachary, confident that he had gained his point, ran out of the house again; and, a few moments afterward, Tom saw him ride toward the barn, triumphantly mounted on Dobbin. The mother, seeing that her orders had been obeyed, again turned to Tom.