"You'll bring
your mother's gray hairs with sorrer to the grave."
"She ain't got any gray hairs," said Sam doggedly.
"Well, she will have some, ef she lives long enough. I once
know'd a boy just like you, an' he was put in jail for stealin'."
"I ain't a-goin to stay and be jawed that way," said Sam. "You
won't catch me pulling you out of a hole again. I wouldn't have
you for a grandmother for all the world. Tom Baldwin told me,
only yesterday, that you was always a-hectorin' him."
Tom Baldwin was the son of Cynthy Ann, and consequently old Mrs.
Payson's grandson.
"Did Tom Baldwin tell you that?" demanded the old lady abruptly,
looking deeply incensed.
"Yes, he did."
"Well, he's the ungratefullest cub that I ever sot eyes on,"
exclaimed his indignant grandmother. "Arter all I've done for
him. I'm knittin' a pair of socks for him this blessed minute.
But he sha'n't have 'em. I'll give 'em to the soldiers, I vum.
Did he say anything else?"
"Yes, he said he should be glad when you were gone.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237