“Expectin’ any visitors?” Uncle Ike asked of Mark.
“No,” said Mark, and sat down.
“Um!” grunted Uncle Ike.
He pulled out his pipe and fussed at it with his jack-knife before he filled it and lighted up. “Looks kinder like you was goin’ to have some,” he said.
Mark didn’t answer anything or ask questions, because if you do Uncle Ike is apt to shut up like a clam and not tell you another thing. He waited, knowing Ike’d tell on if there was anything to say. The old man puffed away for a spell and then asked:
“Father’s makin’ some sort of a whirligig, ain’t he?”
“Yes. He’s inventin’ a e-e-engine.”
“Um!” grunted Uncle Ike. “Calc’late it’s wuth anythin’?”
Mark nodded yes.
“Feller come in on the mornin’ train that seemed tolerable int’rested in sich whirligigs,” said Uncle Ike. “He allowed to set onto the seat with me and asked was I acquainted in town—me! Asked was I acquainted in town!” It was hard for me to tell whether this made Uncle Ike mad or tickled him. He was that way, and you never could make him out. Sometimes when he was maddest he looked most tickled, and when he was most tickled he looked maddest.