“Kalkerlated so,” replied Will. “Vote for General Jackson last ’lection?”
“See here, boy,” said the man, a little angrily, “we don’t allow no one to poke fun at us down our way!”
“All right, boss; don’t get your back up. I’d a notion they always run the old general down that way. But, ain’t you got into the wrong cornfield? Does this shanty look like a calico-shop?”
“Not much,” said the man, looking round. “You may have some goods, though, to suit me. We keep a few choice dress goods.”
“Knowed you did,” said Will, confidently. “See’d it in your eye at first sight. Knowed you wasn’t no ten-cent calicoer. Can show you goods from fifty cents a yard to fifty dollars. Trot down this way. I’ll make your eyes water.”
Will, proud of his new position, worked his man diligently around the store, showing him a variety of goods, and asking him a greater variety of questions, about the state of the crops, what kind of poultry he preferred, banty or game, how much corn it took to fatten pigs, etc.
He seemed to have suddenly developed a powerful desire for agricultural news, and his customer answered him as if pleased with his interest.
“I’ll have my bill now, please,” said the man, after selecting several pieces of dress goods.
“That’s an inch or two out of my line,” answered Will. “The fellers in the office will put that through. This way. Got to report at the captain’s office.”
The clerks looked rather wonderingly at Will’s ushering a customer into the office, and proceeding with much dignity to introduce him, and report the items of his purchase to the entry clerk.