"That's a grace that Win got up himself," his father explained, beginning
to heap a plate with chicken and mashed potato, which he then handed to
Annie, passing her the biscuit and the butter. "We think it suits the
Almighty about as well as anything."
"I suppose you know Ralph of old, Annie?" said Mrs. Putney. "The only way
he keeps within bounds at all is by letting himself perfectly loose."
Putney laughed out his acquiescence, and they began to talk together about
old times. Mrs. Putney and Annie recalled the childish plays and adventures
they had together, and one dreadful quarrel. Putney told of the first time
he saw Annie, when his father took him one day for a call on the old judge,
and how the old judge put him through his paces in American history, and
would not admit the theory that the battle of Bunker's Hill could have been
fought on Breed's Hill. Putney said that it was years before it occurred to
him that the judge must have been joking: he had always thought he was
simply ignorant.
"I used to set a good deal by the battle of Bunker's Hill," he continued.
"I thought the whole Revolution and subsequent history revolved round it,
and that it gave us all liberty, equality, and fraternity at a clip. But
the Lord always finds some odd jobs to look after next day, and I guess He
didn't clear 'em all up at Bunker's Hill."
Putney's irony and piety were very much of a piece apparently, and Annie
was not quite sure which this conclusion was. She glanced at his wife, who
seemed satisfied with it in either case. She was waiting patiently for
him to wake up to the fact that he had not yet given her anything to eat;
after helping Annie and the boy, he helped himself, and pending his wife's
pre-occupation with the tea, he forgot her.
"Why didn't you throw something at me," he roared, in grief and
self-reproach. "There wouldn't have been a loose piece of crockery on this
side of the table if I hadn't got my tea in time."
"Oh, I was listening to Annie's share in the conversation," said Mrs.
Putney; and her husband was about to say something in retort of her thrust
when a tap on the front door was heard.
"Come in, come in, Doc!" he shouted. "Mrs. Putney's just been helped, and
the tea is going to begin."
Dr. Morrell's chuckle made answer for him, and after time enough to put
down his hat, he came in, rubbing his hands and smiling, and making short
nods round the table. "How d'ye do, Mrs. Putney? How d'ye do, Miss Kilburn?
Winthrop?" He passed his hand over the boy's smooth hair and slipped into
the chair beside him.