“David Sterlin’ has enlisted!”
“Sho! has he, though?”
“Of course he has! any man with the spirit of a muskeeter would.”
“Well, he ain’t got a family, you see.”
“He’s got his old mother, that sister home from furrin’ parts somewheres, and Christie just going to be married. I should like to know who’s got a harder family to leave than that?”
“Six young children is harder: ef I went fifin’ and drummin’ off, who’d take care of them I’d like to know?”
“I guess I could support the family ef I give my mind to it;” and Mrs. Wilkins turned a flapjack with an emphasis that caused her lord to bolt a hot triangle with dangerous rapidity; for well he knew very little of his money went into the common purse. She never reproached him, but the fact nettled him now; and something in the tone of her voice made that sweet morsel hard to swallow.
“’Pears to me you’re in ruther a hurry to be a widder, Cynthy, shovin’ me off to git shot in this kind of a way,” growled Lisha, ill at ease.
“I’d ruther be a brave man’s widder than a coward’s wife, any day!” cried the rebellious Cynthy: then she relented, and softly slid two hot cakes into his plate; adding, with her hand upon his shoulder, “Lisha, dear, I want to be proud of my husband as other women be of theirs. Every one gives somethin’, I’ve only got you, and I want to do my share, and do it hearty.”
She went back to her work, and Mr. Wilkins sat thoughtfully stroking the curly heads beside him, while the boys ravaged his plate, with no reproof, but a half audible, “My little chaps, my little chaps!”