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"I wonder why folks can bake pies who don't know how, and Mamsie never can have any." "That boy found your cent in th' road, and brought it clear way up here," cried Mrs. Marindy, on a high key, going into the keeping room, where the old man sat absorbed in his paper. "S'pose he did?" grunted old Mr. Peters. "I sh'd think you'd 'a' give it to him, Pa. It's a shame. Such a hot day as 'tis, too."
Come here and tell me." "Let th' boy alone, can't ye, Marindy?" screamed Mr. Peters, irritably; "beats all how you allers interfere in my business just like a woman!" he fumed, as Joel came back slowly. But Mrs. Peters was as persistent in her way as her husband, and she soon had the whole story laid bare. When that was done, she took Joel into the buttery and gave him a big wedge of custard pie.
"An' there ain't no call for you to say any more about's fur's I know, Marindy," and he jerked open the newspaper, put his feet on the round of another chair, got his spectacles out of their case and on his nose, and prepared to be comfortable. He never knew when his paper slid to the floor, and his bald head was bobbing over his empty hands. Mrs.
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