"Hey?" from Grandfather Smallweed.
"Charley, do you mean?"
This touches a spring in Grandmother Smallweed who, chuckling, as usual, at the trevets, cries—"Over the water! Charley over the water, Charley over the water, over the water to Charley, Charley over the water, over the water to Charley!" and becomes quite energetic about it. Grandfather looks at the cushion, but has not sufficiently recovered his late exertion.
"Ha!" he says, when there is silence—"if that's her name. She eats a deal. It would be better to allow her for her keep."
Judy, with her brother's wink, shakes her head, and purses up her mouth into No, without saying it.
"No?" returns the old man. "Why not?"
"She'd want sixpence a-day, and we can do it for less," says Judy.
"Sure?"
Judy answers with a nod of deepest meaning; and calls, as she scrapes the butter on the loaf with every precaution against waste, and cuts it into slices, "You Charley, where are you?" Timidly obedient to the summons, a little girl in a rough apron and a large bonnet, with her hands covered with soap and water, and a scrubbing brush in one of them, appears, and courtesies.
"What work are you about now?" says Judy, making an ancient snap at her, like a very sharp old beldame.