"There you be, marm!" he said. "Want I should open it? Them nails appear to be driv' in pretty tight." For Jed was on tenter-hooks to know what was in it.
"No, I guess not," said Ma. "I'm afraid Jerry wont stand. Polly and I can open it."
"Oh, bless your soul and body, marm, he'll stand!" said Jed. "Best hoss I ever see fer that."
But Ma wouldn't hear to his losing the time; so Jed had to make himself scarce, looking mournfuller than when his grandmother died last spring.
"Come, here's the hatchet, Polly! Be a little spry!" Ma said. For Polly stood with her arms akimbo, and didn't budge an inch.
"Shure, an' who sint it?" she asked. And that was the only word she had spoken.
"Why, I don't know," said Ma. "But I can imagine. Can't you?"
Polly marched to her tub, her head high in the air.
"I wont tech the ould thing!" said she.
"Then I will for you," said Ma, and had it open in a jiffey.