Janice could not resist shivering at this suggestion. She did not love insects any better than do most girls. But she took Marty's suggestion in good part. "You wait," she said. "Maybe I can do that, too. I'll weed a little, anyway. Have you a large farm, Uncle Jason?" "It's big enough, Janice," grumbled Jason. "Does seem as though--most years--it's too big for us to manage. If Marty, here, warn't so triflin'----" "I don't see no medals on _you_ for workin' hard," whispered the boy, loud enough for Janice to hear. "This was a right good farm, onc't," said Aunt 'Mira. "B'fore Jason got his mis'ry we use ter have good crops. That's when we was fust married." "But that's what broke my health all down," interposed Uncle Jason. "Don't pay a man to work so hard when he's young. He has ter suffer for it in the end." "Huh!" grunted Marty. "If it wasn't good for _you_ to work so hard when you was young, what about _me_?" "You git along out o' here an' start on them 'taters!" commanded Mr. Day, angrily. Marty slid out, muttering under his breath. Janice jumped up from the table, saying cheerfully: "I'll help you with the dishes, Aunty. Let's clear off." Her uncle had risen and was feeling for his corncob pipe on the ledge above the door. Mrs. Day looked a bit startled when she saw Janice begin briskly to collect the soiled dishes. "I dunno, Janice," she hesitated. "I gin'rally feel right po'ly after dinner, and I'm use ter takin' forty winks." Janice did not wonder that her aunt felt "right po'ly." She had eaten more pork, potatoes, spring cabbage and fresh bread than would have served a hearty man. "Let's get rid of the dishes first, Aunty," said Janice, cheerfully "You can get your nap afterward." "Wa-al," agreed Mrs. Day, slowly rising. "I dunno's there's water enough to more'n give 'em a lick and a promise. Marty! Oh, you Marty! Come, go for a pail of water, will ye? That's a good boy." "Now, ye know well enough," snarled Jason's voice just outside the door, "that that boy ain't in earshot now." "Oh, _I_ can get a pail of water from the pump, Aunty," said Janice, briskly starting for the porch. "But that pump ain't goin'," declared Mrs. Day. "An' no knowin' when 'twill be goin'. We have ter lug all our water from Dickerson's." "Oh, gimme the bucket!" snapped Uncle Jason, putting his great, hairy hand inside the door and snatching the water-pail from the shelf. "Wimmen-folks is allus a-clatterin' about suthin'!" Janice had never imagined people just like these relatives of hers. She was both ashamed and amused,--ashamed of their ill-breeding and amused by their useless bickering.