“I was talking to my mother,” answered Ben.
“You’d better wait till you have more time,” growled the farmer.
Ben did not reply, but went on his way to the barn, while Mrs. Winter entered the house.
“Mrs. Winter,” said her husband fretfully, “that boy of yours is gettin’ very impudent and sassy.”
“I hadn’t observed it,” she answered coldly.
“You’re his mother, and you think he’s an angel.”
“There are no angels in this house, Mr. Winter,” said his wife significantly.
“Is that meant as a personal reflection on me, Mrs. Winter?”
“No more than on myself.”
“Well, well, I am glad you didn’t mean any offense. But I’m serious about Ben. I’ve left him in your hands too long. I’m goin’ to manage him myself now.”