"
She says:
"Go 'long to your play, and don't bother me. I know better, I counted 'm
myself."
"Well, I've counted them twice, Aunty, and I can't make but nine."
She looked out of all patience, but of course she come to count--anybody
would.
"I declare to gracious ther' AIN'T but nine!" she says. "Why, what in
the world--plague TAKE the things, I'll count 'm again."
So I slipped back the one I had, and when she got done counting, she
says:
"Hang the troublesome rubbage, ther's TEN now!" and she looked huffy and
bothered both. But Tom says:
"Why, Aunty, I don't think there's ten."
"You numskull, didn't you see me COUNT 'm?"
"I know, but--"
"Well, I'll count 'm AGAIN."
So I smouched one, and they come out nine, same as the other time. Well,
she WAS in a tearing way--just a-trembling all over, she was so mad. But
she counted and counted till she got that addled she'd start to count in
the basket for a spoon sometimes; and so, three times they come out
right, and three times they come out wrong. Then she grabbed up the
basket and slammed it across the house and knocked the cat galley-west;
and she said cle'r out and let her have some peace, and if we come
bothering around her again betwixt that and dinner she'd skin us. So we
had the odd spoon, and dropped it in her apron-pocket whilst she was
a-giving us our sailing orders, and Jim got it all right, along with her
shingle nail, before noon.
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