Upon this spectacle and situation reissued the guileless Caleb, and had the Crystal City itself come down upon earth, his eyes could scarcely have orbed themselves more spaciously.
“He didn’t summon you,” observed the merciless Jinny.
“Go away, father! What are you staring at?” yapped the tortured young man.
“You do be a fine musicianer!” And Caleb grinned. “But do ye don’t play now—mother’s gittin’ into her tantarums over your tea.”
“The instrument must be out of order,” said Will, handing it up crossly to Jinny. Remorselessly she drew from it a clarion call that made the welkin ring and the poultry-yard respond in kind.
“How the cocks crow!” she observed artlessly.
“Thinks because she blows a horn she’s a devil of a fellow,” Will remarked witheringly to his receding father. “Say, Jinny, why don’t you wear the breeches?”
“Like those Bloomerites you told me of? I will,” she responded sweetly, “if you think it more becoming.”
“Me! You don’t suppose I notice what you wear.”
“Then how do you know I’m not wearing ’em now?”