you've put the powder in yourself."

"Dunderation, I don't does dat, and blow mine eyes out my head. Dem
little Dutchmen is up to all kinds of such tricks, and some dese days
dey will blow deir poor fader's brains out of his head, and den what
will become of dem?" feelingly inquired Hans Vanderbum.

"What will become of them?" repeated Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, her
voice rising higher and higher at each word. "Who is it that supports
them now and takes care of them? Who is it that does that? Who is
it--"

"It's you--it's you," replied her husband, seeing the mistake he had
made. "I doesn't do nottings--I doesn't do nottings; it's my wife, my
good Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock, dat does it all. She's a very nice
squaw, de same shape all de way down."

These concessions and compliments greatly soothed the feelings of the
incensed spouse. She scolded her husband no more.

"What you going to do, my dear frau?" he asked, in a voice as cooing
and winning as a dove's.

"Going to work, to plant the corn, to get food for you and Quanonshet
and Madokawandock when the snow falls."

"Very kind, clever woman; good frau is mine
Keewaygooshturkumkankangewock."

"What are _you_ going to do?" asked the wife, as the two passed out the