No sooner had they heard the story, than, seizing Sam, each by an arm, they fairly forced him along. 'Come along, right in, Sam Oakum, and tell father all about it.' And on he had to go, straight through the old shop, into a little back yard, and then into a little old house. The table was in the middle of the floor, on which lay the remains of the breakfast which had just been eaten. Mrs. Cutter was stooping over the fire, and doing something with a kettle which hung there; and as they entered, she turned her very large eyes upon the boys. I say large, because they were naturally very expansive, and because she wore on the bridge of her nose, right before them, a pair of nose spectacles; they were large, too, in contrast with the other features of her countenance, for while these were very round and full, everything else in sight was very long and sharp; her nose was long, and her chin was long, and her hands and arms were long; and other limbs long too, for when she let go the kettle and raised herself up, she appeared all length--of breadth there was nothing to mention, except the eyes. 'What upon airth is the matter? what are you doin' with that boy? See, Cutter, they've been a hurtin' on him--he's a cryin' now--oh the massys! Let him go, you good-for-_nothins you_, let him _go_.' 'No, we ain't been hurting him, neither--what do you think, father? they've been putting Sam Oakum's father in the old cage, they have.' Mr. Cutter was sitting yet at the table; _he_ and his good woman were the reverse of each other, in more ways than one. He was, as we have seen, very large and full-bodied. Standing and walking and going about, seemed to be, each of them, her natural situation; while with him, standing was not to be thought of if there was any chance for a seat; and when once at the table he seemed willing there to stay, until Mrs. Cutter had cleared plates, dishes, and the table itself from before him. As the boys entered he pushed himself round, and looked in quiet amazement at them. 'Who is _they_? who's put him in jail?' 'Old Grizzle, father; only think. If I ain't a mind to kill the old varmint; I'll burn his house down.' '_Whist, hush, hold your tongue_, you scoundrel; how dare you talk so?' And the old man, in his energy to do something to show his displeasure at such threats, caught hold of the pitcher, which yet stood on the table before him, and thinking not of its contents, elevated it above his head in a threatening manner at his lawless son. Cider he liked well enough in its proper place; but a shower of it on his bald head, and in his eyes, and so on, was another thing. It took him by surprise--he let the pitcher go, and put his hands to the afflicted parts.