“Now,” he said, “I cal'late I'd better be gettin' to work, hadn't I? What'll I do first, Thankful?”
Mrs. Barnes stared at him. “Work?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I want to be doin' somethin'—somethin' to help, you know. I don't cal'late to stay around here and loaf. No, SIR!”
Thankful drew a long breath. “All right, Jed,” she said. “You can go out in the barn and feed the horse if you want to. Kenelm—Mr. Parker—generally does it, but he probably won't be here for quite a spell yet. Go ahead. Imogene'll show you what to do. . . . But, say, hold on,” she added, with emphasis. “Don't you go off the premises, and if you see anybody comin', keep out of sight. I don't want anybody to see a brother of mine in THOSE clothes. Soon's ever I can I'll go up to the village and buy you somethin' to wear, if it's only an 'ilskin jacket and a pair of overalls. They'll cover up the rags, anyhow. As you are now, you look like one of Georgie's picture-puzzles partly put together.”
When the eager applicant for employment had gone, under Imogene's guidance, Emily spoke her mind.
“Auntie,” she said, “are you going to make him work—now; after what he's been through, and on Christmas day, too?”
Thankful was still staring after her brother.
“Sshh! sshh!” she commanded. “Don't speak to me for a minute; you may wake me up. Jedediah Cahoon ASKIN' to go to work! All the miracles in Scriptur' are nothin' to this.”
“But, Auntie, he did ask. And do you think he is strong enough?”
“Hush, Emily, hush! You don't know Jedediah. Strong enough! I'm the one that needs strength, if I'm goin' to have shocks like this one sprung on me.”