“You’m jokin’!” they cried.
“No fay, solemn truth.”
“An’ what if ’tis?” asked the old Jacky-Toad abruptly. “Granted—then what? Ban’t no gert odds as I can see. Who’s better for knawin’ it? We’ve got to be made o’ somethin’.”
At this reflection the travelled Jacky-Toad was uneasy, and the more so because such an unreasonable manner of regarding the fact gained ground. Nobody—not even a Jacky-Toad—likes much to be confronted with superior knowledge outpoured in a superior manner.
“Ban’t no mighty matter when you come to think of it,” said somebody; and then the ancient one spoke again.
“Besides, how be we to knaw ’tis so? Us have awnly got your word for’t. That ban’t proof. For my paart I’m blamed if I do b’lieve it!”
In about half a minute they all agreed with their venerable leader that this information must not be accepted. Then an old friend asked the wanderer concerning his geography, and from a condition of some dismay he plucked up courage.
“Well, I can tell ’e a ’mazing thing in that branch o’ larnin’. ‘The Duchy o’ Baden lies a’most entirely between the Kingdom o’ Wurtemberg an’ the River Rhine. The climate be healthy, but the winters is cruel sharp in the Black Forest.’ What do ’e think o’ that?”
They all hummed their admiration, and several shook the geographer by the hand.
“’Tis a noble piece of information, sure enough,” said one.