"Any man Marcia Howe married would have to put up with it," Abbie asserted, biting off a needleful of thread with a snap of her fine white teeth. "Marcia's always been captain of the ship an' she always will be."
Gathering up her mending, Rebecca rose.
"Well, I can't stay here settlin' Marcia's future," she laughed. "I've got to be goin' home. Lemmy'll be wantin' his supper. He can't, though, accuse me of fritterin' the afternoon away. I've darned every pair of stockin's in this bag an' there was scores of 'em. You turn off such things quicker when you're in good company."
A scuffling on the steps and the sound of men's voices interrupted the words.
The kitchen door swung open and Zenas Henry's lanky form appeared on the threshold. Behind him, like a foreshortened shadow, tagged his crony, Lemuel Gill.
"Well, well, 'Becca, if here ain't Lemmy come to fetch you!" Abbie cried. "'Fraid your wife had deserted you, Lemmy? She ain't. She was just this minute settin' out for home."
"I warn't worryin' none," grinned Lemuel.
"What you two been doin'?" Abbie inquired of her husband.
"Oh, nothin' much," answered the big, loose-jointed fellow, shuffling into the room. "We've been settin' out, drinkin' in the air."
The carelessness of the reply was a trifle overdone, and instantly aroused the keen-eyed Abbie's suspicions.