I'll bet that's my grapevine plate. If it is-well, of all the
mercies, it ain't! But it naight 'a' ben. I never see your beat-never!
That's the third plate since I came to live here."
"Oh, look-a-here, Granny," said Will desperately. "Don't make so
much fuss about the plate. What's it worth, anyway? Here's a
dollar."
Agnes cried quickly:
"Oh, don't do that, Will! It ain't her pate. It's my plate, and I can
break every plate in the house if I want'o," she cried defiantly.
"'Course you can," Will agreed.
"Well, she can't! Not while I'm around," put in Daddy. "I've helped
to pay f'r them plates, if she does call 'em hern-"
"What the devul is all this row about? Agg, can't you get along
without stirring up the old folks everytime I'm out o' the house?"
The speaker was Ed, now a tail and slouchily dressed man of
thirty-two or -three; his face still handsome in a certain dark,
cleanly cut style, but he wore a surly loo'k and lounged along in a
sort of hangdog style, in greasy overalls and vest unbuttoned.
"Hello, Will! I heard you'd got home. John told me as I came
along."
They shook bands, and Ed slouched down on the lounge. Will
could have kicked him for laying the blame of the dispute upon
Agnes; it showed him in a flash just how he treated her.
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