“Yep,” says Silas. “What’s t-t-that thing?” says Mark, pointing off into a corner where a dusty, rusty, busted-up looking thing was setting.
“Dowel-machine,” says Silas. “Bought her to an auction. Never knowed jest why. Fetched her back and stuck her there, and she hain’t been moved since.”
“What’s dowels?” says I.
“Little pegs like,” says Silas.
“Um!...” says Mark. “What you been makin’ m-most?”
“Drumsticks,” exploded Silas, “and dumb-bells and tenpins and chair-rounds.”
“Which made the most money for you?”
“You hain’t askin’ it right,” said Silas. “What you want to say is which lost the most money for me?”
“All right,” says Mark. “Which?”
“I dunno,” says Silas, grabbing into his beard and yanking it off to one side.