“It ain’t that way, neighbours,” Dunham said softly, his face in the direction of the music. “When we adopted ’Liza Haskell we was gettin’ the best end of the bargain, if ye want to put it on that kind of a basis. We was both all corners before—sharp corners at that. I ain’t backward about ownin’ up—we f’it, me and Esther, like fury, and we didn’t know what was the matter with us. But somehow there don’t seem to be any corners in our house now. Them that ain’t filled with new chairs and pictur’s is all full o’ sunshine. There ain’t a room in the house that looks like it used to—with the furniture standin’ round jest as though it had been used at a funeral last and was where the undertaker arranged it. We didn’t know what the matter was, I say—me and Esther didn’t. We don’t know jest how it’s come about nov. But we do know that we’ve adopted something besides a poor little girl—we’ve adopted sunshine and sweetness and comfort and new notions about livin’ and lovin’ and havin’.”
He stood up and piled his parcels upon his arm.
“That’s the way it is to our house nowadays, neighbours. I used to like to set here the whole ev’nin’ in the store before—but now—well, when I git to thinkin’ about how home is, why, it takes more than them pretty tunes to hold me here. There’s music to our house that’s better than all the brass bands in the world.”
He went out and they heard the jingle of his sleigh-bells threading through the mellow notes of the cornet.
“He was allus sort of a soft old fool when you got under his shell,” scoffed Uncle Buck, grinding his cane against the rusty stove. “What I can’t understand is how Esther ever come ’round as she did. I allus thought she was harder’n nails.”
“Oh, it took Squire Phin to warm her ear-wax,” said Amazeen. “And when you know how to handle a woman like that, why, you’ve got her—that’s all. I cal’late there ain’t a man in the county that understands human natur’ better’n Squire Phin does. He can handle ’em all right when he makes up his mind to.”
Uncle Buck was plainly nettled by Amazeen’s air of easy confidence.
“Well, there’s one woman that he don’t seem to be able to handle—and I reckon he’d like to at that,” he snorted. “Sylvene Willard ain’t hardly spoke to him since he knocked her feller down.”
“I don’t cal’late as how you’ve got any right to call King Bradish her feller,” objected Amazeen.
“I donno why not,” snapped Uncle Buck. “Jedge Willard come right out after that happened and said that Sylvene and King was goin’ to git married at Christmas time, and Sylvene didn’t dispute him. It’s past Christmas time now, to be sure, but as I understand it, King is tied up in New York by bus’ness and ain’t been able to git back since he went away a little spell ago.”