"For the land's sake!" gasped Aunt 'Mira, looking up from the stove, a strip of pork hanging from her up-raised fork. Uncle Jason took his pipe from his lips and screwed his neck around so as to look in at the door. "What d'you reckon that gal's up to?" he demanded. Marty came back from the Dickerson's at almost a lope. "What in 'tarnation is Janice doin' up in her room?" he queried, slopping the water as he put the pail hurriedly upon the shelf. "I haven't the least idea what it can be," said Mrs. Day, almost aghast. "By jinks!" exclaimed the slangy boy. "I wanter see. By jinks! she socked that nail home--she did!" The whole house rang with the vigor of Janice's blows. Marty started up the stairs in a hurry, and Mr. Day followed him. Mrs. Day came to the foot of the stairs with the piece of pork still dangling from her fork. Marty reached his cousin's door and banged it open without as much as saying "By your leave." "Hullo! What you doin'?" demanded the boy. "Can't you _see_?" returned Janice, coolly. "I got sick of being rocked to sleep every night on that old soap-box. I'll wager, Marty, that this leg will stay put when I get through with it." "Wal! of all things!" grunted Mr. Day, with his head poked in at the open door. "What's Janice doing?" demanded his wife, too heavy to mount the stairs easily. Uncle Jason turned about and descended the flight without replying to his wife; but at her reiterated cry Marty explained. "Ain't that gal a good 'un?" said the boy. "She's gone and put on the old leg to that bedstead. That's been broke off ever since you cleaned house last Fall, Maw." "Oh! Well! Is that it?" repeated Mrs. Day. Then, when she and her husband were alone in the kitchen, before the young folk came down, she said, pointing the fork at him: "I declare for't! I'd feel ashamed if I was you, Jason Day." "What for?" demanded her husband, scowling. "Lettin' Broxton's gal do that. You could ha' tacked on that leg forty times if you could once. Ain't that true?" But Mr. Day refused to quarrel. He took a long drink from the pail of fresh water Marty had brought. Then he said, tentatively: "Breakfast most ready, Almiry? I'm right sharp-set." When Janice and Marty came down they were not talking of the bedstead at all. But Aunt 'Mira was rather gloomy all through the meal, and looked accusingly at her husband every time she heaped his plate with pork, and cakes, and "white gravey." Mr. Day quite ignored these looks. He was even chatty--for him--with Janice. It was a school day, and Janice hurried to put on her hat and get her school bag, into which she slipped the luncheon that her aunt very kindly put up for her. Aunt 'Mira had really begun to "put herself out" for her niece, and the luncheon was always tasty and nicely arranged.