“'Well,” Eph said, “I dunno. I ain't got no real cause to complain, I reckon; but it does seem as if prices on pies was gittin' too low to make it worth while fer a man to keep his woman over a hot stove a day like this. It don't seem right fer folks to break into business an' cut the liver out of prices.”
“Oh, now, Eph!” Phin expostulated, “you ain't got no just cause fer to say that. A man's got to do something to git started, ain't he?”
“If we're goin' to fight this out,” said Eph, calmly, “I move we adjourn over yon into the shade an' set down to it. This ain't no question fer to settle in no two shakes of a ram's tail, Phineas, an' we mought as well settle it right now an' git shet of it.”
“I dassay you're right in that, Eph,” Phineas agreed; “an' we'll jest kite over yonder an' set down an' figure the whole blame business out, so 's we won't have to bother about it no more.”
CHAPTER TWO
When the two men were comfortably settled in the shade and had lighted their pipes, Eph, as the senior in the trade and the party with a complaint, opened his mouth to speak; but before the words came forth, Phineas outflanked him and let fly a thunderbolt.
“Eph,” he said, “you got to lower down your pie prices to even up with what mine are.”
Eph looked at his companion in astonishment.