“Because, Gus, when men begin to have wants they naturally try to gratify them, and the more they gratify them the more they have, and thus they better their position. For instance, I wanted pond lilies, and to catch fish; so I built this boat: that bettered my position, as you perceive,”—pulling up a pout,—“else, instead of sitting here quietly fishing and reflecting, I should, like you, be standing on the shore, looking and longing.”
“Well, we’re going to see.”
“It would be very desirable, as it would remove a great deal of perplexity from your minds, and restore universal peace and satisfaction.”
“Why so?”
“Because you are now very much perplexed in opinion, and confused in your notions; some of you think I keep this boat under water, others in the top of a tree, and a few, that I have an ointment I got of an Indian, which, being rubbed on her, turns her into a cat-tail flag; but seeing is believing, and would at once remove all doubts and reconcile all conflicting opinions.”
“If you don’t let us see, we won’t come to your Sunday school class to-morrow.”
“Yes, you will, Gus, because you’ll have to; if you’re absent, you’ll be marked absent, and Uncle Sam will know the reason why.
‘Are ye not marked, ye men of Dalecarlia?’”
“O, if we could only find out, wouldn’t we hide her where he couldn’t find her!”