Everything was ready. Far back in the open fireplace the fagots were blazing and snapping. Hanging above them, the great iron pot threw forth a circle of noisy steam around the loosely fitted lid, while the potatoes within were in a high state of commotion—little ones tumbling pell-mell over big ones, and big ones rocking dolefully backward and forward in the boiling water as though they felt sure their end was approaching.
"Blow the horn again, John," called out Mrs. Hedden, as she cut another slice from the big brown loaf that had rapidly been growing less under her shining knife. "Ha! ha! they can't help hearing that," she laughed, as her husband blew a blast even louder than usual.
After waiting a moment, Mr. Hedden came in, throwing the almanac on a low wooden settee as he entered.
"No use waiting any longer, wifey—let's sit by. I don't see a sign of the youngsters; though it did seem to me I heard some of 'em screaming and laughing in the distance a bit ago. 'Twon't do, though," he continued, shaking his head; "we must make the crazy little cubs mind the horn closer. Play's play, and all well enough in its way, but you must teach children regularity from the very outset, or they'll never be good for much."
"That's true enough, John," answered his wife, as she "dished" some of the steaming potatoes—leaving a goodly number in the pot for the little folk—"that's true enough; but you know this is a day of extra frolic for the children. They're having such fun, likely, they've no notion how the time is passing. As for the horn, who could expect mortal ears to hear that—with Bessie and Big Tom laughing and singing, and Rudolph screaming with fun—as I know he is; and little Kit, bless her! just frantic with delight; I think I can see them now, the merry madcaps!"
Ah! happy, unconscious mother, if you could have seen them—if their cries of terror could but have reached your ears!
Finally, neighbor Hedden arose, shoving back his stool on the sanded floor.
"Well, well, wifey, you're right enough, no doubt; but I tell you it isn't best to be too easy with youngsters, though ours are the best going, if I do say it. A good trouncing all around, when they come in, wouldn't be a bit too much for them for being so late;" and, half in fun, half in earnest, he shook his head rather fiercely at his wife, and stalked out of the cottage.
Presently she laughed outright to hear the loud, impatient tones issuing from the great tin horn. "That'll fetch them, I reckon," said neighbor Hedden, showing a smiling face at the window.
As another hour passed away, the songs grew fewer and fainter upon the mother's lips—at first from vexation, and, finally, from weariness and a vague feeling of anxiety.