From an idle onlooker's point of view it seemed an excellent domestic implement in good health; but the beautiful cook averred it would produce no heat.
"It must be like Bray's," said grandma, "they thought it was no good, and it was only because of some damper that had to be fixed."
"Yes; and they had a man there to fix it for them; that's the terrible want about this place, there being no man about it to do anything," Dawn said pointedly, looking at Uncle Jake, who was calmly sitting in his big chair in the corner. He was not disconcerted. A man who could live for years on a widowed sister without making himself worth his salt is not of the calibre to be upset by a few hints.
"I've busted up me pants again," cheerfully announced Andrew from the doorway—misfortunes never come singly. "Dawn, just get a needle and cotton and stitch 'em together."
"I never knew you when they weren't 'busted up,' and you can get another pair or hold a towel round you till Carry comes home; she's got to do the mending, it's her week in the house. I've got enough to worry me, goodness knows!"
"Dear me!" said grandma, walking away as I once more volunteered to be a friend in need to Andrew, "w'en people is young, an' a little thing goes wrong, they think they have the troubles of a empire upon them, but the real troubles of life teaches 'em different. You are a good-for-nothink lump anyhow, Andrew. Where have you been on a Sunday morning tearing round the country?"
Andrew threw no light on the question, and his grandma repeated it.
"Where have you been, I say—answer me at once?"
"Oh, where haven't I been!" returned Andrew a trifle roughly, "I couldn't be tellin' you where I've been. A feller might as well be in a bloomin' glass case as carry a pocket-book around an' make a map of where he's been."
The old lady's eyes flashed.