“Ya'as, Malviny, he was tell er minit ergo, 'n' he stepped out to th' lot,” replied the old lady, in tones so like the expression of her face, mildly calm, that it was a pleasure to hear her speak. “Ha! ye got thet baby wi' ye?” “Ya'as, 'm.” “I wish ye'd put her on my lap. Gra'mammy 'ain't had 'er none ter-day.” “Ya'as, 'm, in er minit. Run, Susan Jane, 'n' fetch er cloth ter wipe 'er face 'n' han's; they're that stuck up wi' merlasses, ter say nothin' o' dirt. Therey, therey, now! Mammy's gal don't want ter hev 'er face washed? Hu! tu! tu! Thaney mustn't cry so. Where's Jeff? Here, Jeff--here, Jeff! Ole bugger-man, come down the chimbly 'n' ketch this bad gal. You'd better hush. I tell yer he's er-comin'. Here, Susan Jane, take th' cloth. There, gra'mammy; there's jest es sweet er little gal es ye'd find in er dog's age.” And the old lady at once cuddled the little one in her arms, swinging back and forth in her home-made rocker, and crooning an old-time baby song. “Here, Susan Jane, han' me my knittin' from th' table, 'n' go 'n' tell Jim ter pitch in some pine knots 'n' make er light in here, 'n' be quick erbout it”; and Mother Tyler settled herself in another home-made rocker and began to knit rapidly. This was the night-work of the female portion of the family, and numerous stockings of various colors and in various stages of progress were stuck about the walls of the room, which boasted neither ceiling nor lath and plaster, making convenient receptacles between the posts and weather-boarding for knitting-work, turkey-tail fans, bunches of herbs for drying, etc. A pine-knot fire was soon kindled on the hearth, and threw its flickering shadows on the room and its occupants as the dusk gathered in. Mandy Calline and Elisabeth, running a race from the kitchen, burst into the back door, halting in a good-natured tussle in the entry. “Stop that racket, you gals,” called out the mother; and as they came in with suppressed bustle, panting with smothered laughter, she asked, briskly, “Have ye shet up everything 'n' locked th' kitchen door?” “Ya'as, 'm,” replied Mandy Calline; “'n' here's th' key on th' mantel-shelf.” She then disappeared up the stairs which came down into the sitting-room behind the back door. “Come, Ann Elisabeth, git yer knittin'. Git your'n too, Susan Jane.” “Yer'll ha' ter set th' heel fer me, mar,” said Susan Jane, hoping privately that she would be too busy to do so. “Fetch it here,” from the mother, dashed the hope incontinently. “I think we're goin' ter ha' some fallin' weather in er day er two; sky looks ruther hazy, 'n' I heerd er rain-crow ter-day, 'n' ther's er circle roun' th' moon,” observed Father Tyler as he entered, and hanging his hat on a convenient nail in a post, seated himself in the corner opposite his mother. “Ha' ye got th' fodder all in?” queried his wife, with much interest.