"The furnicher's ez fine ez the house," went on Mrs. Rogers. "Thar is a boughten cairpit in the parlor, an' mahog'ny sofy an' cheers.—Lucindy, wipe yer knife on yer bread befoh he'pin' yo'se'f to buttah. Can't I nevah l'arn you no mannahs?"
"They have a big music-piece with ivory keys, and Miss Abby's teaching Betsy to play on it," said Susan, forgetting her shyness, and her blue eyes shining at the recollection of this wonder.
"Yes, it's all mighty fine, an' I'm shore I don't begrudge any uv it: an' now thet Miss Abby hez come to live thar an' Betsy's gittin' to be a big gal, things is bettah looked aftah," Mrs. Rogers conceded. "The heft o' manidgment falls on Betsy an' Miss Abby, fur Jane hain't no more faculty then a grasshopper.—Lucy, don't eat with yer fingers lak a niggah. Whut's yer knife fur, ef it ain't to eat with?—I wuz ovah there last spring, 'long in April or May, an' axed Jane ef she'd got her soap grease made up. She looked et me onconsarned lak, an' says she really didn't know; ole Dilsey allus looked aftah sich things. Think on it! a wife an' mothah an' housekeepah not knowin' ef the year's soap grease wuz wucked up—an' it late on in spring, too. Jane she knits some, an' she kin do a lot o' fine herrin'-bonin' an' tattin' an' tambour wuck; but spinnin' an' weavin' an' mekin' candles an' soap, an' sich useful emplements, she don't consarn about no more'n my Lucindy an' Lucy.—Henry, ef you eat any more o' thet bacon, you'll be squealin' lak a pig, befoh mawnin'. Hev some more honey, Mistah Dudley."
After supper was over, the table cleared, and the two little boys stowed away in the trundle-bed, the rest of the family gathered about the broad hearth.
"Heah." Mrs. Rogers said to the twins, "you don't go to the kitchen to play. You fooled 'way so much time out in the orcha'd this evenin' thet yer stent hain't nigh done. Set right down on them stools, an' don't let me heah a word outen you tell them socks is ready to hev the heel sot. Ha'f a finger length more you've both got to knit." She measured the unfinished socks, and then handed each little girl her task. "Henry, you'll put yer eyes out readin' by thet fire, an' me an' Susan needs all the candle-light fur our wuck. 'Pears lak you ain't nevah happy 'less you've got yer nose in some book. Heah, Cissy, them britches' laigs is ready to seam up. Mek yer stitches good an' tight, else you'll haf to rip it all out an' do it ovah. Snuff the candle, fust, an' hand me thet hank o' thread an' the shears, befoh you set down."
"Le's see," said Rogers to his guest, taking a corncob pipe from the mantel and lighting it with a fire coal. "This is Friday, an' school oughtah begin Monday. Bettah draw up a subscription paper to-night, an' ride 'roun' with it airly to-morrow. I'll send Henry 'long to show you the way. Set right down heah by the table an' draw up yer writin's. Henry, light anothah candle." As he spoke, he went to the tall chest of drawers and took out paper, a bottle of pokeberry ink, and a bunch of quills.
"I see you kin mek a pen," he continued, as Dudley took out his knife, selected a quill, and proceeded in a businesslike way to point it. "Now, whut kind uv a fist do you write? Hope you kin mek all the flourishes; ha'f the folks in Bourbon County jedge a man's book l'arnin' by the way he writes. That's hunkey-dorey!" he exclaimed, looking over the writer's shoulder. "Thet'll fetch 'em!"
When the clock pointed to half-past eight, Mrs. Rogers rolled up her work, declaring it time for all honest folks to be abed. "Thar's lots o' wuck to be did to-morrow, an' the only way to git it did, is to tek a good holt on the day at the start, an' set it squarely on its laigs."
CHAPTER II.