"Well, we'll see about that," was Sube's dubious-sounding answer as he guided Biscuit towards the potato bin.
"Gee, but it's dark in here," whined Biscuit.
Sube stopped short. "Look here!" he warned. "If it's too dark for you down here in this cool cellar, you go on outdoors, and I'll do these p'tates myself—or let one of the other fellers do 'em."
"Oh, no!" Biscuit hastened to assure him. "It ain't dark at all any more. It jus' seemed so at first. I can see fine now."
"Well, all right then," muttered Sube. "But if you're goin' to back out, I want to know it 'fore you begin."
"No, sir! I ain't go'n'ta back out," Biscuit asserted resolutely.
Sube picked up a potato from which several long white sprouts were dangling. "You jus' give 'em a simple twist of the wrist," he explained coördinating the action with the words, "and there you are!" He held up the beardless tuber for Biscuit's inspection. "Now, do you s'pose you can do that?" he asked.
"Of course I can," Biscuit replied disdainfully. "It's jus' like wipin' dishes; and I've wiped my mother's dishes ever since I was big enough to walk!"
This burst of confidence was destined to come back to plague Biscuit, although at the time of its utterance Sube appeared not to have heard it.
"Let's see you do a few," was all he said.