"That's it," said Uncle Amos. "Boys, listen! Mostly always when a
woman's kind to you there's something back of it."

"Ach, Amos, you're soured," said Millie.

"No, not me," he declared. "I know there's still a few good women in
the world. Ach, yea," he sighed deeply and looked the incarnation of
misery, "soon I'll have three to boss me, with Amanda here growin' like
a weed!"

"Don't you know," Mrs. Reist reminded him, "how Granny used to say that
one good boss is better than six poor workers? You don't appreciate us,
Amos."

"I give up." Uncle Amos spread his hands in surrender. "I give up. When
women start arguin' where's a man comin' in at?"

"I wouldn't give up," spoke out Lyman. "A man ought to have the last
word every time."

"Ach, you don't know women," said Uncle Amos, chuckling.

"A man was made to be master," the youth went on, evidently quoting
some recent reading. "Woman is the weaker vessel."

"Wait till you try to break one," came Uncle Amos's wise comment.

"I," said Lyman proudly, "I could be master of any woman I marry! And I
bet, I dare to bet my pop's farm, that any girl I set out to get I can