But after the last morsel was carefully scraped from his plate, Miranda, remarking that it looked as if it had been washed, Joel straightened up and clamored for work again.
“What’ll we put him at?” she whispered, carrying out the plates and knife and fork to the kitchen sink.
“My land, I’m sure I don’t know,” said old Mrs. Peters, helplessly. “There’s enough work, goodness knows, in th’ house to do, but nothin’ to set a boy on. It beats me, Mirandy.”
“Well, there’s some that’s got to be found,” said Miranda, decidedly. “Meanwhilst, we’ll just whip off his clothes, an’ I’ll run ’em through th’ tub.”
“What’ll he put on?” cried the old lady, aghast.
“Why, there’s John’s things up in th’ attic,” said Miranda; “I’ll run up and fetch ’em.”
Which she did, and although John, when he left home to go to sea, was a lad twice the size of Joel Pepper, and his garments left behind had been hanging in the garret ever since, to the great delight of the moths, Joel not only made no objections to being inducted into them, but his face actually shone with pleasure at the prospect. Now, he was big, indeed!
“I can roll up your sleeves,” said Miss Miranda, reassuringly, as the well-worn edges dangled over his hands.
“Did John roll ’em up?” asked Joel, regarding her movements with suspicion.
“No, of course not,” said Miranda, briskly, “but he was bigger’n you be. Why, he was almost a man.”