“Auntie, what do you think a couple of standing up collars would cost?”
“A standing up collar, Charles Pitt! What do you want that for?”
“Why, we have a pammerrammer to-morrow, and I am the one to ’splain it; that is, me or the governor.”
“He is gettin’ to be a man!” thought Aunt Stanshy in sorrow. “A pammerrammer!” she inquired. “I most get into that. Do you have spectators?”
“O, yes. It is only a cent a ticket, and that will get you a reserved seat.”
“Then I must take a reserved seat.”
Aunt Stanshy told the boys she would come whenever they notified her that the pammerrammer was ready. A lively shout of announcement soon came from half a dozen heralds up in the barn window, and Aunt Stanshy dropped her sewing.
“All ready, aunty! Come now,” shouted Charlie.
Aunt Stanshy quickened her steps into a run.
“There goes Stanshy,” said Simes Badger, watching her from Silas Trefethen’s grocery. “Runnin’ t’ a fire, I guess. She only needs an engine behind her t’ make the thing complete.”