"Why worry ye about James?" asked Amos philosophically. "He does not deserve supper! But, indeed, Mother, ye take him and his words too seriously! To-night, I mean! He doth but like to hear his own tongue clacking!"
"Mayhap," answered Mistress Williams, in a troubled fashion. She motioned to Sally, who had hesitated. "But try and find him, anyway, my dear. 'Twill ease my mind to know the perverse lad hath had his supper."
"Well," said Amos, yawning, "I be off to bed. Good-night!"
"Good-night, my son." Mistress Williams looked after her tall, quiet, eldest son affectionately. "Careful o' the candle, Amos," she added warningly. "And place it where it will not waken Zenas—the poor fellow hath had a hard day!"
"Aye, Mother!" Amos turned sleepily, toward the loft stairs. But in a moment he was back. "Did Sally put Noggins out?" he asked. "I was minded to take the cat upstairs wi' me—the rats be so thick up there! Sometimes," he hesitated, "I think 'tis not wise to keep the grain bin up there, for it doth call the rats and mice."
"But, Amos, your grandfather built it that way—it seems not quite right to change it after all these many years!" protested his mother. "Besides," she urged, "'tis so handy to ha' the spout for drawing off the grain right here i' the house,
