"It seems to me as Sanna Verstage knows nuthin about it."
"Jonas," pleaded Mehetabel, "give the little one a kiss. Take it in your arms."
He turned away.
"Jonas," she said, in a tone of discouragement, after a pause, and after having held out the child to him in vain, and then taken it back to her bosom, "what are you stampin' for?"
He was beating his foot on the flooring.
"I want Sally to come up. I thought you had something to say, and it seems there is nuthin'."
"Nothing, Jonas? Do not go. Do not leave me thus. This is the first time you have been here since this little herald of goodwill appeared in my sky. Do not go! Come to me. Put your hand in mine, say that all is love and peace between us, and there will be no more mistrust and hard words. I will do my duty by you to the very best of my power, but, oh, Jonas, this will be a light thing to accomplish if there be love. Without—it will be heavy indeed."
He continued stamping. "Will Sally never come?"
"Jonas! there is one thing more I desired to say, What is the name to be given to the little fellow? It is right you should give him one."
"I!" exclaimed the Broom-Squire, making for the stairs. "I! Call him any name you will, but not mine. Call him," he turned his mean face round, full of rancor, and with his lip drawn up on one side, "as you like—call him, if it please you—Iver."