"Hold on, deacon—hold on!" interrupted Uncle Eb. "That's your last year's Fourth of July speech. That don't seem 'zactly 'propriate to this occasion."
"Now you back up, Eben," commanded Given. "You let him spout. It sounds purty good to me, whether there's any sense to it or not."
"What was I sayin'?" asked the deacon. "Where did I leave off? You kinder interrupted my train of discourse, Eben. Mebbe I'd better stop."
"There's a lady coming to join our party," said Bart Hodge. "I think it's your wife, Eli."
"My w-h-a-t?" gasped Eli Given, actually turning pale. "Where is she? Great scissors! If she ever gits her hands on me now, I see my finish!"
A woman, with a sunbonnet dangling by the strings tied beneath her chin, was coming down the road in a hurried manner. With some difficulty Eli finally discovered her.
"That's Mrs. Given as sure as Adam ett the apple!" he exclaimed. "I don't believe she's seen me. Boys, I've gut to go, and I've gut to go in a hurry, too."
"Well, don't you think I'm goin' to hang around for her to git holt of me," said Uncle Eb, as he started toward the corner of the house, hobbling along as fast as his legs and his cane could carry him.
"I think perhaps I'd better go, too," muttered the deacon, as he followed Eben's example.
In spite of the start of his companions, Given passed them on a run and turned the corner, making straight for the stable. The three old chaps legged it into that building and disappeared from view.