the milk in the cool cellars, that the father could take him again.

Meantime Steadfast had brought up a bucket of water from the spring,
and after washing his own hands and face, set out the table with a
very clean, though coarse cloth, five brown bowls, three horn spoons
and two wooden ones, one drinking horn, a couple of red earthen cups
and two small hooped ones of wood, a brown pitcher of small ale, a
big barley loaf, and a red crock, lined with yellow glazing, into
which Patience presently proceeded to pour from a cauldron, where it
had been simmering over the fire, a mess of broth thickened with
meal. This does not sound like good living, but the Kentons were
fairly well-to-do smock-frock farmers, and though in some houses
there might be greater plenty, there was not much more comfort
beneath the ranks of the gentry in the country.

As for seats, the father's big wooden chair stood by the fire, and
there was a long settle, but only stools were used at the table, two
being the same that had served the milkers. Just as Rusha, at her
father's sign, had uttered a short Grace, there stood in the doorway
a tall, stout, well-made lad of seventeen, with a high-crowned wide-
brimmed felt hat, a dark jerkin with sleeves, that, like his breeches
and gaiters, were of leather, and a belt across his shoulder with a
knife stuck in it.

"Ha! Jeph," said Kenton, "always in time for meat, whatever else you
miss."

"I could not help it, father," said Jephthah, "the red coats were at
their exercise!"