You an’ marm are gettin’ feeble; mustn’t have
ye up so late!
I’m the boss—” John sort o’ te-heed, “so I’ll
have to keep ye straight.
’Sides, I’ll need ye bright an’ early. In the
mornin’ hitch the mare,
Take that paper down t’ court-house. Have it
put on record there.”
Uncle Tascus took the writin’, pulled his specs
down on his nose,