“That's no good,” Swatty said. “That was marrying. That's what priests and preachers are for—marrying folks together—they ain't for diworcing them apart again. If it was somebody I wanted to have married together of course I'd have thought of a preacher right away. You don't think I'm so dumb as not to have thought of that, do you? But this ain't marrying them together, it's keeping them married together; it's keeping them from diworcing apart.” Then, all at once he said, “Garsh!”
“What are you garshing about?” I asked him.
“Garsh!” he said again. “I guess I am dumb! I guess I ought to let a mule kick me! I ought to have thought of it right off!”
“Thought of what, Swatty?”
“Why, the judge! You, talking about preachers and priests and all them and not thinking of the judge! It's a judge that always diworces people apart, ain't it? Well, what we've got to do is see the judge and tell him not to diworce Bony's folks apart!”
“Come on! We'll go see the judge and tell him not to diworce Bony's folks apart.”
Well, I guess we didn't think when we started how we would do it. We just started.
When we got down to the court-house, where the judge stays, I didn't feel so much like doing it and Bony didn't feel like doing it at all. It was different when we got down there than it was when we were sitting on the grass under my apple tree. All along the front edge of the front porch of the court-house were big pillars and each pillar was as big around as twenty boys standing in a lump would be. So me and Bony we sort of peeked into the hall and went out on the porch again, but Swatty went right inside. So we sort of frowned at Swatty and shouted in a whisper: “Aw! come on, Swatty! Let's go home.”
But Swatty spoke right out, as if he wasn't afraid of the court-house at all.
“Aw, come on!” he said. “What are you afraid of?”