"Now, here," said Mr. McGonnigle, as they entered it, lolling back in the seat and crossing his legs in leisurely fashion, "is where there's been all kinds of accee-dents."
He pointed with the stub of a buggy-whip:
"About there is where four horses on a coal-wagon run away and went over. Two was killed and one was crippled so they had to shoot it."
"Oh, how dread-ful!" Aunt Lizzie exclaimed, nervously.
Miss Mercy's contralto voice boomed at him:
"What happened to the driver?"
"His bones was broke in a couple of dozen places, but they picked him up, and sence, he has growed together."
Miss Mercy snickered.
"You see that p'int ahead of us? Onct a feller ridin' a bronc backed off there. They rolled two hundred feet together. Wonder it didn't kill 'em."
Aunt Lizzie was twisting her fingers and whispering: