Ephraim said he was certain.
"E.T.O. or Pacific?"
"Around here," Ephraim said. "You know, Germantown, Monmouth, King's Mountain."
"Oh. State's side, huh?" Benny promptly lost all interest in his sister's guest. Putting his hat on the back of his head he announced his bloody intention of going down to the corner and shooting one of the smaller Kelly Pools.
"Have a good time," Gertie told him.
Sitting down beside Ephraim she fiddled with the knobs on an ornate commode and a diminutive mule-skinner appeared out of nowhere cracking a bull whip and shouting something almost unintelligible about having a Bible in his pack for the Reverend Mr. Black.
Ephraim shied away from the commode, wide-eyed.
Gertie fiddled with the knobs again and the little man went away. "Ya don't like television, huh?" She moved a little closer to him. "Ya want we should just sit and talk?"
Patting at the perspiration on his forehead with one of Benny's handkerchiefs, Ephraim said, "That would be fine."
As with the horseless carriages, the towering buildings, and the water that ran out of taps hot or cold as you desired, there was some logical explanation for the little man. But he had swallowed all the wonders he was capable of assimilating in one night.