THE next morning, that of September eleventh, Mistress Williams had breakfast upon the table bright and early. It was a hot, breathless morning that made everyone inclined to lie abed, hating the thought of the exertion necessary to dress; but despite that. Mistress Williams moved bustlingly about the kitchen between fireplace and table and showed not a whit of mercy to her family or herself.
"Nay, Mother, what be thy hurry?" grumblec Master Williams, coming in with two foaming milk pails, followed by Amos and James, likewise laden.
Mistress Williams sent a keen glance at the latter across the table as she dished out, with rapid and skilful spoon, the cornmeal mush into nine wooden trenchers.
"Why did ye not tell your parents ye were planning to sleep over at Uncle Ben's last night, James?" she demanded sternly.
"Nay, I did not go to Uncle Ben's!" answered James in evident astonishment.
