"The resks in life come along fast enough, without runnin' to meet 'em,"
continued the old man. "There's good dough in Rose, but it ain't more'n half
riz. Let somebody come along an' drop in a little more yeast, or set the dish
a little mite nearer the stove, an' you'll see what 'll happen."
"Steve's kept house for himself some time, an' I guess he knows more about
bread-makin' than you do."
"There don't nobody know more'n I do about nothin', when my pipe's drawin'
real good an' nobody's thornin' me to go to work," replied Mr. Wiley; "but
nobody's willin' to take the advice of a man that's seen the world an' lived
in large places, an' the risin' generation is in a turrible hurry. I don' know
how 't is: young folks air allers settin' the clock forrard an' the old ones
puttin' it back."
"Did you ketch anything for dinner when you was out this mornin'?" asked his
wife.
"No, I fished an' fished, till I was about ready to drop, an' I did git a few
shiners, but land, they wa'n't as big as the worms I was ketchin' 'em with, so
i pitched 'em back in the water an' quit."
During the progress of these remarks Mr. Wiley opened the door under the sink,
and from beneath a huge iron pot drew a round tray loaded with a glass pitcher
and half a dozen tumblers, which he placed carefully on the kitchen table.
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