Fee, squirting a flood of tobacco juice with the words, said: "Yes, and ef they'd all dig like Charley did, you'd had purtaters to last you a life time."
The roars of laughter that went up were convincing proof that there are no secrets sacred in a small town.
[CHAPTER SIX]
Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy with cheek of tan;
"With thy turned-up pantaloons
And thy merry, whistled tunes;
With the sunshine on thy face
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
Outward sunshine, inward joy,
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy.
Alfred's parents concluded it would be good for the boy to send him to the country for a time, freeing him from the influence of town boys. Therefore they sent him to Uncle Joe's, a prosperous farmer, a little inclined to take too much hard cider or rye at sheep-washing or hog-killing time, fond of fox chasing and hunting and shooting at a mark.
Uncle Joe went to town at least once a week when Aunt Betsy accompanied him. He observed the proprieties and respected his good wife's wishes. Long had she labored to get him to join the church of which she was an exemplary pillar. Thus far she had not succeeded.
A neighboring farmer, the leading member of the church, was the barrier. Uncle Joe and this neighbor, "Old Bill Colvin," as Uncle Joe designated him, had been at logger-heads for years over line fences and other trifles that farmers find excuses to quarrel over.
