Jack stayed but a minute in the woods, then, hurrying back, rejoined Lion, who was driving the cows into the lane. Arrived at the barn-yard, he took one of three or four pails which Mr. Pipkin had brought out from the pantry, and a stool from the shed, and sat down to do his share of the milking. He had always liked that part of the day’s work well enough before; but now with a secret feeling of pride and hope he said to himself, “Maybe I sha’n’t always be obliged to do this for a living!” And he wondered how it would seem to be a gentleman and live without work.
CHAPTER V
WAITING FOR THE DEACON.
The milk was carried to the pantry and strained; the candles were lighted, and the family sat in a pleasant circle about the kitchen table, while, without, the twilight darkened into night, and the crickets sang. There was Mr. Pipkin showing Phin how to braid a belly into his woodchuck-skin whiplash; Mrs. Pipkin (late Miss Wansey) paring a pan of apples, which she held in her lap; Moses reading the “Saturday Courier,” a popular story-paper in those days; little Kate, sitting on a stool, piecing a bed-quilt under her mother’s eye,—sewing together squares of different colored prints cut out from old dresses, and occasionally looking up to ask the maternal advice,—while Mrs. Chatford was doing some patch-work of a different sort, which certain rents in Phin’s trousers rendered necessary. Jack sat in the corner, silent, and listening for buggy-wheels.
“I hope you won’t go climbing over the buckles and hames, on to a horse’s back, in that harum-scarum way, another time,” said the good woman, in tones of mild reproof, to her younger son.
“’T was beginning to rain, and I couldn’t stop to think,” said Phin, laughing. “Could I, Phi?”
“I should think not, by the hurry you was in to hook my ride,” replied Mr. Pipkin, with reviving resentment. “That was a mean trick; and now jes’ see how I’m payin’ ye for it! Ye never could ’a’ got a decent-lookin’ belly into this lash, in the world, if ’twa’n’t for me.”
“That’s ’cause you’re such a good feller, and know so much!” said Phin, who could resort to flattery when anything was to be gained by it. “O, look, Mose! ain’t Phi doing it splendid? It’s going to be the best whiplash ever you set eyes on.”
Mr. Pipkin’s lips tightened in a grin around his big front teeth, and he worked harder than ever drawing the strands over the taper belly, while Phin, leaning over the back of his chair, whispered to Jack, “See what a fool I can make of him!”