"
"His talk was elegant," Mrs. Bade agreed. She stood still for a
moment, looking down at her pots and pans. "He's seen a deal of life,
I dare say," she added casually--so casually as to make one almost
think that she herself had seen all she wanted to see.
"Well," said Aaron, "that's what schooling does for a man. It gives
him a manner of talking, along with something to say."
Margaret, bent over her work again, plunged her red, wet arms up to the
elbow in hot, soapy water. "You'll never lack talk, Aaron," she
remarked; "or suffer for want of something to say. But it isn't
washing my pots for me, nor bringing in the corn . . ."
"I'm going along now," said Aaron. "If the old man wakes before I'm
back again, don't hurry him off, mother; I'd be glad to talk with him a
bit before he goes."
"Who said anything about hurrying him off?" cried Mrs. Bade. "He can
stay till doomsday, for all I care. He can sit and talk to me, while
you're blowing on your flute. It'll be real companionable."
And she turned back to her pots and pans, a faint smile causing her
mouth to curl down at one end, and up at the other.
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