“Where’d you git it, Marcus Aurelius?” says Mr. Tidd.
“In the ice-b-box,” says Mark. “Boon’s I see that b-butter I knew right off where the lead was. You got the lead same time you did the butter, didn’t you, pa?”
“Yes,” says Mr. Tidd.
Mark nodded his head like he’d known it all along. “Sure,” says he, “and you p-p-put the lead in the ice-box and fetched the butter out to the shop.”
“I swan!” says Mr. Tidd. “I calc’late your ma ’u’d been some s’prised if she started spreadin’ bread, eh?” He chuckled and chuckled, and so did we.
“Pa,” says Mark, when we quit laughing, “there was s-s-somethin’ I wanted to talk over with you.”
“Go ahead,” says Mr. Tidd.
“I got the idea from Binney,” says Mark.
“Huh!” says I, “I hain’t had any ideas this week.”
“Your b-best ideas,” says Mark, “is the ones you don’t know you have.”