The pies were done for dinner.  Adoniram and Sammy were home a few minutes after twelve o’clock.  The dinner was eaten with serious haste.  There was never much conversation at the table in the Penn family.  Adoniram asked a blessing, and they ate promptly, then rose up and went about their work.

Sammy went back to school, taking soft, sly lopes out of the yard like a rabbit.  He wanted a game of marbles before school, and feared his father would give him some chores to do.  Adoniram hastened to the door and called after him, but he was out of sight.

“I don’t see what you let him go for, mother,” said he.  “I wanted him to help me unload that wood.”

Adoniram went to work out in the yard unloading wood from the wagon.  Sarah put away the dinner dishes, while Nanny took down her curl-papers and changed her dress.  She was going down to the store to buy some more embroidery and thread.

When Nanny was gone, Mrs. Penn went to the door.  “Father!” she called.

“Well, what is it!”

“I want to see you jest a minute, father.”

“I can’t leave this wood nohow.  I’ve got to git it unloaded an’ go for a load of gravel afore two o’clock.  Sammy had ought to helped me.  You hadn’t ought to let him go to school so early.”

“I want to see you jest a minute.”

“I tell ye I can’t, nohow, mother.”

“Father, you come here.”  Sarah Penn stood in the door like a queen; she held her head as if it bore a crown; there was that patience which makes authority royal in her voice.  Adoniram went.

Mrs. Penn led the way into the kitchen, and pointed to a chair.  “Sit down, father,” said she; “I’ve got somethin’ I want to say to you.”

He sat down heavily; his face was quite stolid, but he looked at her with restive eyes.  “Well, what is it, mother?”

“I want to know what you’re buildin’ that new barn for, father?”

“I ain’t got nothin’ to say about it.”

“It can’t be you think you need another barn?”

“I tell ye I ain’t got nothin’ to say about it, mother; an’ I ain’t goin’ to say nothin’.”

“Be you goin’ to buy more cows?”

Adoniram did not reply; he shut his mouth tight.

“I know you be, as well as I want to.  Now, father, look here”—­ Sarah Penn had not sat down; she stood before her husband in the humble fashion of a Scripture woman—­“I’m goin’ to talk real plain to you; I never have sence I married you, but I’m goin’ to now.  I ain’t never complained, an’ I ain’t goin’ to complain now, but I’m goin’ to talk plain.  You see this room here, father; you look at it well.  You see there ain’t no carpet on the floor, an’ you see the paper is all dirty, an’ droppin’ off the walls.  We ain’t had no new paper on it for ten year, an’ then I put it on myself, an’ it didn’t cost but ninepence a roll.  You see this room, father; it’s all the one I’ve had to work in an’ eat in an’ sit in sence we was