Sally shook her head. "Nay, ye look not too abused, sir!" she said, with a giggle.
One by one the Williams children, gathered in the big kitchen, responded hungrily when summoned to the long supper table. All were fine-looking, from twenty-year-old Amos to little Nathaniel, now gurgling sleepily to himself in his cradle beside his mother, whose foot, as she sat at the table, continually rocked him.
Conversation turned, of course, upon Mistress Williams's sewing bee. "Didst have a good time at thy party, Mary?" asked Master Williams tenderly. It was plain to be seen that he was fond of his wife and proud of her competent ways and independent manner. Eating their suppers, the young people listened silently, for these were the days when children were to be seen but not heard—that is, generally.
Mistress Williams sighed. "I be tired!" she acknowledged. "But I am glad I had them here, for we did finish five shirts, Nat, and six pairs o' woolen stockings for our men at Morris Town."
"Our men!" burst out young James, as a shade passed over his father's face. "Nay, Mother, why will ye be so perverse! Everyone knows the Colonists are fools for going against His Majesty!"
"James! I like not your words to me!"
"James, leave the table, sir!"
