"I'm afraid even at twenty-five cents it will be hard for us to pay for butter, if I don't get something to do soon."
"I guess I won't tell Aunt Jane till after supper," Ben decided. "After a good cup of tea, perhaps it won't make her feel so low-spirited."
So he ate his supper, chatting merrily with his little cousin all the time, just as if he had nothing on his mind. Even his aunt smiled from time to time at his nonsense, catching the contagion of his cheerfulness.
"I wish you'd split a little wood for me, Ben," said Mrs. Bradford, as our hero rose from the supper table. "I've had some ironing to do this afternoon, and that always takes off the fuel faster."
"All right, Aunt Jane," said Ben.
"I guess I'll wait till I've finished the wood before telling her," thought Ben. "It won't be any worse than now."
Tony went into the woodshed, to keep him company, and his aunt prepared to clear away the supper dishes.
She had scarcely commenced upon this when a knock was heard at the door. The visitor proved to be old Mrs. Perkins, a great-aunt of James Watson, who was an inveterate gossip. Her great delight was to carry news from one house to another.
"How do you do, Mrs. Bradford?" she began. "I was just passin' by, and thought I'd come in a minute."
"I am very glad to see you, Mrs. Perkins. Won't you have a cup of tea?"