wa'n't as big as the worms I was ketchin' 'em with, so I pitched
'em back in the water an' quit."

During the progress of these remarks Mr. Wiley opened the door
under the sink, and from beneath a huge iron pot drew a round
tray loaded with a glass pitcher and half a dozen tumblers, which
he placed carefully on the kitchen table.

"This is the last day's option I've got on this lemonade-set," he
said, "an' if I'm goin'to Biddeford to-morrer I've got to make up
my mind here an' now."

With this observation he took off his shoes, climbed in his
stocking feet to the vantage ground of a kitchen chair, and
lifted a stone china pitcher from a corner of the highest
cupboard shelf where it had been hidden.

"This lemonade's gittin' kind o' dusty," he complained, "I
cal'lated to hev a kind of a spree on it when I got through
choosin' Rose's weddin' present, but I guess the pig'll hev to
help me out."

The old man filled one of the glasses from the pitcher, pulled up
the kitchen shades to the top,put both hands in his pockets, and
walked solemnly round the table, gazing at his offering from
every possible point of view.

There had been three lemonade sets in the window of a Biddeford
crockery store when Mr. Wiley chanced to pass by, and he had
brought home the blue and green one on approval.