Part 5 (1/2)
”Shall I head her off?” asked James.
”No. I had just finished.”
”That's just the time she always kicks, father.”
”I know it; and I ought to have been on the lookout. She don't like to have any talking going on during the business of milking. Come, let us go to the house.”
The children had been put to bed; the candles were lighted, and the sitting-room looked quite cheerful.
”What made you stay so long, Chester?” asked Mrs. Royden. ”You haven't had any supper, have you?”
”Yes; the Dustans invited me to tea.”
”And did you walk home?”
”Walk! No, indeed, I rode.”
”But you are not going to keep that horse over night, on expense, I hope,” said Mrs. Royden.
Chester replied that he had sent Sam with him to the village.
”Now, that boy will do some mischief with him, you may depend! Why couldn't you walk over from the tavern in the first place, instead of hiring a horse? You shouldn't be so careless of expense, Chester.”
The young man began to whistle. The entrance of Sarah seemed a relief to him; and he immediately proposed a game of whist. His mother opposed him strenuously, saying that she wanted him to talk, and tell all about his fortunes and prospects, that evening; but it was his object to avoid all conversation touching his own conduct, in presence of the family.
”Come, Jim,” said he, ”where are the cards? Will Hepsy play?”
”Hepsy is busy,” replied Mrs. Royden, curtly. ”If you must play, Lizzy will make up the set.”
”But the minister?” suggested Lizzie.
”Yes,” said her mother. ”It will not do to play before him.”
”He has gone to bed, I am pretty sure,” cried Sarah. ”He was very tired, and it is all still in his room.”
”Let us have a little sport, then, when we can,” said Chester.
The table was set out; the players took their places, and the cards were shuffled and dealt.
”They don't know one card from another over at Deacon Smith's,” observed Sarah, sorting her hand. ”I never knew such stupid people.”
”What is that,--a knave or a king?” inquired Lizzie, holding up one of her cards.
”Don't you know better than to show your hand?” cried James, who was her partner. ”It's a knave, of course. The king has no legs.”
”You needn't be so cross about it!” murmured Lizzie.
”If you don't know how to play,” retorted her brother, ”you'd better let Hepsy take your place.”