“You’ve never give us no chance to forgit it,” responded an auditor. “We’ve heard it reg’lar every day since.”
“I hadn’t seen nobody fer clost to three months,” Lemonade Dan continued “when a feller come along, and says: ‘I’d like to stop with ye but I’m short of cash.’ I counted out a dollar-thirty and I says ‘Stranger,’ I says, ‘that’s all I got but it’s yourn if you’ll stay!’”
“And you’ll jump for a new seed catalogue or an Agricultural Bulletin like it was a novel just out,” contributed Yankee Sam from his experience. “I’ve allus been a great reader. I mind how I come clost to burnin’ myself out on account of it the fall of ’97 when I was ground-sluicin’ down there on Snake river. I had a tidy cabin papered with newspapers and one week when ‘twere stormin’ I got interested in a serial story what was runnin’. It started back of the stove and they was an installment pasted in the cupboard, they was a piece upside down clost to the floor so I had to stand on my head, as you might say, to read it, and the end was on the ceilin’. One evenin’ I was standin’ on a box with my mouth open and my neck half broke tryin’ to see how it come out when I tipped the lamp over. I’m a reg’lar book-worm, when I gits where they’s readin’.”
“I mind the winter I bached on Crooked Crick I tamed a mouse,” ventured Lannigan. “He got so sociable he et out of my fingers.”
“He shorely must have been fond of you.” Ma Snow looked fixedly at Lannigan’s hands. “Mistah Hinds,” turning sharply upon that person, who was endeavoring by close inspection to tell whether the last card was a king or queen, “the bacon’s froze and there ain’t a knife in yoah ol’ kitchen that will cut.”
“Yes ma’am,” murmured Mr. Hinds, hoping against hope that the statement was not a command with his luck just beginning to turn and a sequence in sight.
“If there ain’t an aidge on one of them butcher knives that’ll cut bread when I start in to get supper—”
But Ma Snow did not deliver her ultimatum. In the first place it was not necessary, for the cowed owner of the Hinds House knew perfectly well what it was, and in the second, Uncle Bill arose suddenly and stood on tiptoe looking through the window in something that approached excitement. Nothing ordinary could jar Uncle Bill’s composure—chairs went over in the rush to join him at the window.
The stage was coming—with passengers! It was almost in—they could hear the driver’s—“Git ep, Eagle! Git ep, Nig! Git ep—git ep—git ep!” There was luggage on behind and—Yankee Sam’s voice broke as though it were changing when he announced it—a female and two men!