{"id":"01KG6YH4FSXXQ7N9G4HCXPV5TD","cid":"bafkreigfklciwfurvtzosrrwqihwrsdeimppm7lm6il7z5gb3ofhr3qv4u","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5882,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T07:57:45.581Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 16","source_file":"01KG6YDD8GKW0DRD5H2MY1NRZ7","start_line":5802,"text":"and another voice said, \"Come, wife; come, come--I must be back again\r\nin a jif--if you say I _must_ take all my meals at home, you must be\r\nspeedy; because the Squire--Good-day, sir,\" he exclaimed, now first\r\ncatching sight of me as he entered the room. He turned toward his\r\nwife, inquiringly, and stood stock-still, while the moisture oozed from\r\nhis patched boots to the floor.\r\n\r\n\"This gentleman stops here awhile to rest and refresh: he will take\r\ndinner with us, too. All will be ready now in a trice: so sit down\r\non the bench, husband, and be patient, I pray. You see, sir,\" she\r\ncontinued, turning to me, \"William there wants, of mornings, to carry\r\na cold meal into the woods with him, to save the long one-o'clock walk\r\nacross the fields to and fro. But I won't let him. A warm dinner is\r\nmore than pay for the long walk.\"\r\n\r\n\"I don't know about that,\" said William, shaking his head. \"I have\r\noften debated in my mind whether it really paid. There's not much odds,\r\neither way, between a wet walk after hard work, and a wet dinner before\r\nit. But I like to oblige a good wife like Martha. And you know, sir,\r\nthat women will have their whimseys.\"\r\n\r\n\"I wish they all had as kind whimseys as your wife has,\" said I.\r\n\r\n\"Well, I've heard that some women ain't all maple-sugar; but, content\r\nwith dear Martha, I don't know much about others.\"\r\n\r\n\"You find rare wisdom in the woods,\" mused I.\r\n\r\n\"Now, husband, if you ain't too tired, just lend a hand to draw the\r\ntable out.\"\r\n\r\n\"Nay,\" said I; \"let him rest, and let me help.\"\r\n\r\n\"No,\" said William, rising.\r\n\r\n\"Sit still,\" said his wife to me.\r\n\r\nThe table set, in due time we all found ourselves with plates before us.\r\n\r\n\"You see what we have,\" said Coulter--\"salt pork, rye-bread, and\r\npudding. Let me help you. I got this pork of the Squire; some of his\r\nlast year's pork, which he let me have on account. It isn't quite as\r\nsweet as this year's would be; but I find it hearty enough to work on,\r\nand that's all I eat for. Only let the rheumatiz and other sicknesses\r\nkeep clear of me, and I ask no flavors or favors from any. But you\r\ndon't eat of the pork!\"\r\n\r\n\"I see,\" said the wife, gently and gravely, \"that the gentleman knows\r\nthe difference between this year's and last year's pork. But perhaps he\r\nwill like the pudding.\"\r\n\r\nI summoned up all my self-control, and smilingly assented to the\r\nproposition of the pudding, without by my looks casting any reflections\r\nupon the pork. But, to tell the truth, it was quite impossible for me\r\n(not being ravenous, but only a little hungry at that time) to eat\r\nof the latter. It had a yellowish crust all round it, and was rather\r\nrankish, I thought, to the taste. I observed, too, that the dame did\r\nnot eat of it, though she suffered some to be put on her plate, and\r\npretended to be busy with it when Coulter looked that way. But she ate\r\nof the rye-bread, and so did I.\r\n\r\n\"Now, then, for the pudding,\" said Coulter. \"Quick, wife; the Squire\r\nsits in his sitting-room window, looking far out across the fields. His\r\ntime-piece is true.\"\r\n\r\n\"He don't play the spy on you, does he?\" said I.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, no!--I don't say that. He's a good enough man. He gives me work.\r\nBut he's particular. Wife, help the gentleman. You see, sir, if I lose\r\nthe Squire's work, what will become of--\" and, with a look for which I\r\nhonored humanity, with sly significance, he glanced toward his wife;\r\nthen, a little changing his voice, instantly continued--\"that fine\r\nhorse I am going to buy?\"\r\n\r\n\"I guess,\" said the dame, with a strange, subdued sort of inefficient\r\npleasantry--\"I guess that fine horse you sometimes so merrily dream of\r\nwill long stay in the Squire's stall. But sometimes his man gives me a\r\nSunday ride.\"\r\n\r\n\"A Sunday ride!\" said I.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 16"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG6YGBGKG15EQNWSZXFWPM05","peer_type":"segment","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG6YDD8GKW0DRD5H2MY1NRZ7","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG6YCG626JN4FCG8QK17CQCF","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG6YH4FS11GH2C0ZDZD1JJF3","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG6YH4FSX758JVMC1D5BDXJR","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T07:57:51.481Z","ts":"2026-01-30T07:57:55.950Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}