"She'll be gittin' married agin," pleaded Tip.

"Serves you right," said I. Then, to myself, "Not unless the other
man's an utter stranger."

"She hasn't enough wood chopped to last a week," said Tip.

"She chopped the last wood-pile herself," said I.

"There's Cevery," pleaded Tip. "Cevery never done me no harm, and
who'll dandle him?"

"The same good soul that dandled him the day you rode over the
mountain," I answered.

"But it's a good half mile from our house to the spring," Tip said,
"and who'll carry the water?"

"Earl and Pearl and Alice Eliza," I replied. "They've always done it;
why worry now?"

"Well, I don't care nohow," Tip cried, stamping the floor. "I want to
go back to Black Log."

"So do I, Tip," I said; "but--there's that bad spot on my head again."

"Now see what you've done with your argyin', Tip Pulsifer," cried the
old woman, running to me. "Poor thing--ain't the Miracle workin'?"