They found
out afterwards that Caleb always worked with cotton-wool in his
ears, so his wife's remonstrance failed to reach him.
"You see, it is like this, sir," he observed to Malcolm afterwards,
when they became better acquainted with each other: "Ma'am's tongue
is like a leaking water-butt. It is bound to drip, drip from week's
end to week's end, and there's no stopping it. It is a way she has,
and Kit and me are bound to put up with it. She means no harm,
doesn't Kezia; she is a hard-working crittur, and does her duty,
though she is a bit noisy over it; she is good to us both in her
way, and I am not quarrelsome by nature, so, as I like to work in
peace, I just stop my ears and hum to myself, and if she scolds I
mind it no more than I do the buzzing of the blue-bottles on the
glass."
"But the child Kit?" questioned Malcolm a little anxiously. Then a
queer little twisted smile came to Caleb's face.
"She is used to it, is Kit, and she don't take it to heart much. I
have heard her cheek Ma'am sometimes. Ma'am wouldn't hurt a hair of
her head, for all her bouncings and flinging of pots and kettles
when she is in a temper.
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