"
"There's a good half-gallon of molasses in the jug yet,"
said ma Sloane ruthlessly.
"That so? Well, I noticed the kerosene demijohn wasn't very hefty
the last time I filled the can. Reckon it needs replenishing."
"We have kerosene enough to do for a fortnight yet."
Ma continued to eat her dinner with an impassive face, but a
twinkle made itself apparent in her eye. Lest Pa should see it,
and feel encouraged thereby, she looked immovably at her plate.
Pa Sloane sighed. His invention was giving out.
"Didn't I hear you say day before yesterday that you were out of nutmegs?"
he queried, after a few moments' severe reflection.
"I got a supply of them from the egg-pedlar yesterday," responded Ma, by a
great effort preventing the twinkle from spreading over her entire face.
She wondered if this third failure would squelch Pa. But Pa was not
to be squelched.
"Well, anyway," he said, brightening up under the influence of a sudden
saving inspiration. "I'll have to go up to get the sorrel mare shod.
So, if you've any little errands you want done at the store, Ma, just make
a memo of them while I hitch up."
The matter of shoeing the sorrel mare was beyond Ma's province,
although she had her own suspicions about the sorrel mare's
need of shoes.
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