And so he went on a-mumbling up stairs, and then we left. He was a mighty nice old man. And always is.

     Tom was a good deal bothered about what to do for a spoon, but he said we'd got to have it; so he took a think. When he had ciphered it out he told me how we was to do; then we went and waited around the spoon-basket till we see Aunt Sally coming, and then Tom went to counting the spoons and laying them out to one side, and I slid one of them up my sleeve, and Tom says:

     "Why, Aunt Sally, there ain't but nine spoons YET."

     She says:

     "Go 'long to your play, and don't bother me. I know better, I counted 'm myself."

     "Well, I've counted them twice, Aunty, and I can't make but nine."

     She looked out of all patience, but of course she come to count--anybody would.

     "I declare to gracious ther' AIN'T but nine!" she says. "Why, what in the world--plague TAKE the things, I'll count 'm again."