When Harvey stood on the ground, facing the group, he asked:
“Are we going to have a rain?”
“He’s the man that’ll tell you all about the weather for a week to come and hit it every time.”
The one who spoke pointed to an old farmer, without coat or waistcoat, with a ragged straw hat, chin whiskers and bent shoulders, who was chewing tobacco after the manner of a cow masticating her cud.
“How is it, Uncle Tommy?” asked the man who had just spoken.
The old fellow, still chewing, looked up at the sky and then around the heavens, squinting one eye as he carefully studied the signs.
“It’ll rain like all creation inside of a couple of hours; then it’ll hold up a little while and bime by start in agin and drizzle all night.”
“How about to-morrow?” asked Harvey.
“It’ll be bright and clear, but a little cooler than to-day.”
“Tell the young gentleman how the rest of the week will be,” insisted his neighbor.