“Yes, to be sure, they is boys,” said Mr. Beggs; “I ain’t a-denyin’ that,” and running the hook of the steelyards through the tied strings of the bags, “but they’re Mis’ Pepper’s boys, an’ that makes a difference.”
“Not Mis’ Pepper over to Badgertown, who lives in that little brown house!” exclaimed Mrs. Hinman.
“Yes, marm;” with that the ragman lifted the steelyards and gave the bag a swing, endeavoring to slide the hook along the iron bar to adjust the weight, peering at it closely, while he held the whole thing aloft.
“Take care—it’s a-tetchin’ you,” screamed Mrs. Hinman, and trying to push the bag of rags away from the long linen coat.
Mr. Beggs turned on her an angry face. “When I weigh rags, I weigh ’em, Mis’ Hinman,” he said, “or else I never drive a trade with nobody.”
Thus admonished, Mrs. Hinman folded her nervous hands across her apron, and held herself in check.
“Well, are those boys a-goin’ in after that other bag?” said Em’line; “I know I ain’t,—my arm’s broke almost, draggin’ this one down.” But Mr. Beggs, not appearing to hear, and certainly Joel and David, so absorbed over the excitement of seeing the rags weighed that they couldn’t be expected to understand what was wanted of them, it really began to look as if Em’line would have to go after the other bag herself, if she wanted it brought down.
“Twelve—twelve an’ a ha-alf,” said Mr. Beggs, slowly moving the hook along a hair’s breadth.
“It’s more’n that,” broke in Mrs. Hinman, standing on tiptoe to peer over his arm.
“Of course it is,” declared Em’line; “it weighs a lot more. It most broke my arm a-draggin’ it along,” she added, as if bringing out a wholly new statement.