The next morning a parsnip stew of noble proportions was prepared. At
eleven o'clock the great kettle, full to the rim, hung over the fire,
and the room was cloudy with savory steam. The Wigginses were expected
every minute. Uncles Silas and Caleb Whitman could be seen from the
kitchen window out in the field with their brother bending over the
plough furrows, and they kept righting themselves and looking at their
old silver watches. At half-past eleven Mrs. Whitman and Serena began to
think it was strange that the Wigginses did not come. At quarter of
twelve there was a little stir out in the yard, and they ran to the
windows. There was Mr. Wiggins with a wheelbarrow and an empty grain
sack and a half-bushel basket of russet apples in it.
Mrs. Whitman and Serena stood wonderingly in the door. "Where's the
folks?" asked Mrs. Whitman.
Then Mr. Wiggins, standing by the wheelbarrow, explained how Hiram Green
had had to use the horse for ploughing up in the six-acre lot, how he
had promised to hire it to him, and his wife hadn't known it, and how he
had had to go to the store for grain with the wheelbarrow, and his wife
had got him to stop and tell Mis' Whitman she was dreadfully sorry it
happened so, but she didn't see how they could walk, and they would come
over the first day they could have the horse; and she didn't know but
what Mis' Whitman's apples had give out, so she sent her over a few of
their russets; they had 'most two barrels left, and they were spoiling
fast, and they wanted to get rid of them.
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