Tom Hurst was a dainty youth, in fact, and shrank from
soiling his fingers with the tasks allotted to him: and seeing that
grim Uncle Josh had not spared him, the forenoon had been one long
battle; for, try as he might, Tom could not keep a bridle on his
tongue.
"I guess I'll hev a pesky deal o' trouble with that young 'un,
Hepsy," his uncle said that night when the children had gone to bed.
"He doesn't take to farm work; an' he's that peart I durstn't speak
to him. Queer thing if we've got to keep the young upstart in
idleness."
"Idleness!" quoth Miss Hepsy wrathfully. "I'd take a rope's end to
him if he didn't keep a civil tongue in his head. The gal's bad
enough; though she never speaks back she looks at me that proud-like
wi' them great eyes o' her'n, I feel as if I'd like to shake her.
There'll never be a day's peace now they've come."
"Tell ye what, though, Hepsy," said Josh. "I'm gwine to pay off
Brahm, an' make Tom do his work. He ain't that much younger, an' he
looks strong enough! Couldn't you do without Keziah, and that would
square expenses?"
"I'll see how the child turns out in a week or so. She's a pinin'
thing--doesn't eat enough to keep a mouse alive."
"It's a thankless thing, any way ye like to take it, Hepsy, hevin'
other folks' youngsters round.
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