"No, but I guess that's them comin' now. I hope Ike won't come, though." Mrs. Gray stared at the Deacon. "Why not?" "Well, he's just sure to make a fuss," said Jack, "he's so afraid he won't get his share." Bill chewed on a straw and looked at Sarah abstractedly. "Well, what's t' be done?" inquired Mrs. Gray, after a pause. "Can't do much till Emmy gets here," said Sarah. "Oh, I guess we can. Bill, you put out y'r team, we won't get away 'fore dinner." The men drove off to the barn, leaving the women to pick their way on chips and strips of board laid in the mud, to the safety of the chip-pile, and thence to the kitchen, which was desolately littered with utensils. Deacon assumed command with the same alertness, and with the same sunny gleam in his eye, with which he directed the funeral a few days before. "Now, Bill, put out your team and help Jack and me pen them hogs. Women folks 'll git things ready here." Emma came at last, driven by Harkey's brother and his hired man. They were both brawny fellows, rude and irritable, and the Deacon lifted his eyebrows and whistled when he saw them drive in with a lumber wagon. The women swarmed out to greet Emma, who was a thin, irritable, feeble woman. "Better late than never. Where's Ike?" inquired Mrs. Gray. "Well, he--couldn't git away very well--he's got t' clean up some seed-oats," she answered nervously. After the men drove off, however, she added: "He thought he hadn't ought to come; he didn't want to cause no aidgewise feelin's, so he thought he hadn't better come--he'd just leave it to you, Deacon." The Deacon said, "All right, all right! We'll fix it up!" but he didn't feel so sure of it after that, though he set to work bravely. The sun, growing warmer, fell with pleasant gleam around the kitchen door and around the chip-pile where the hens were burrowing. The men worked in their shirt-sleeves. "Well, now, we'll share the furniture an' stuff next," said the Deacon, looking around upon his little interested semicircle of spectators. "Now, put Emmy's things over there and Serry's things over here. I'll call 'em off, and, if they's no objection, you girls can pass 'em over." He cleared his throat and began in the voice of one in authority:-- "Thirteen pans, six to Emmy, seven to Serry;" then hastened to add: "I'll balance that by giving the biggest of the two kittles to Emmy. Rollin' pin and cake board to Serry, two flat-irons to Emmy, small tub to Emmy, large one to Serry, balanced by the tin water pail. Dozen clo'se-pins; half an' half, six o' one, half-dozen t'other," he said with a smile at his own joke, while the others actively placed the articles in separate piles. "Stove to Serry, because she has the house, bureau to Emmy." At this point Mrs. Gray said, "I guess that ain't quite even, Deacon; the bureau ain't worth much." "Oh, no, no, that's all right! Let her have it," Emma protested nervously.