"Yes!" said the farmer deliberately stirring his tea,—"I've got back! And I'm glad, for one. I've been visiting my relations in New Jersey; and I've made up my mind that the Simlinses made a good move when they come to Connecticut."
"You found them all well?" said Miss Cecilia politely.
"Well, no, I didn't," said Mr. Simlins. "How's a man to find five hundred and fifty people all well? 'Taint nature. How's things with you, Squire?"
"Wheat's done well—corn middlin'," replied the Squire, while Joe got behind his sister's chair and whispered,
"There's another name in the diction'ry sounds like your'n, though they aint spelled just alike."
"Goin' to school, Joe?" growled Mr. Simlins.
"No sir," said Joe. "Mr. Linden teached me all he knowed in a jiffy,—and all I know, too."
"Well—are the other boys learnin' yet?" said Mr. Simlins, as he spread a slice of bread pretty thick with butter.
"S'pose so"—said Joe,—"all they kin."
"It's hard work!" said Mr. Simlins. "I feel it now! Never ploughin' made my back ache like learnin'. I wonder whatever they made me school trustee for, seein' I hate it like pison. But s'pose we mustn't quarrel with onerous duties," said the farmer, carrying on sighing and bread and butter and tea very harmoniously together. "I shouldn't mind takin' a look at your last copy-book, Joe, if it would be agreeable."