At his parents' exclamations, the boy, red and angry, shoved back his stool from the supper table with a clatter that woke little Nathaniel. Snatching his hat from its wooden peg behind the door, James tramped out of the door, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind him. Sally, embarrassed, kept her eyes upon her plate until Mistress Williams, with an obvious effort, commenced to speak cheerfully, when the girl answered eagerly. But Master Williams remained silent and depressed and soon retired to his chamber, saying that he was tired and was going to bed.
It was after the dishes were washed and wiped and the children had gone to bed, too, that Mistress Williams came to Sally, as she was putting the cat out. "Sally," she whispered seriously, "think ye, mayhap, ye could find James and gi' him this porringer o' bread and milk! He be out there i' the garden sulking, I make no doubt—and—and—" her motherly voice faltered—"I be feared he be hungry. His father gave him no chance to finish his supper."
Sally glanced distastefully out into the dense darkness of the garden; but she took the porringer in her hands. "I can but try, dear mistress," she answered cheerfully. She was about to step down from the threshold when Amos spoke unexpectedly behind his mother.
