"Yahn, this yer room is twenty foot by fifteen, how much ilecloth three foot wide will it call fur?"
"Thirty-three and one-third yards," Yan said at once.
Raften was staggered. Yan's manner was convincing, but to do all that in his head was the miracle. Various rude tests were applied and the general opinion prevailed that Yan was right.
[190] The farmer's face beamed with admiration for the first time. "Luk at that," he said to the table, "luk at that fur eddication. When'll you be able to do the like?" he said to Sam.
"Never," returned his son, with slow promptness. "Dentists don't have to figger on ilecloth."
"Say, Yan," said Sam aside, "guess you better tackle Da about the dam. Kind o' sot up about ye this mornin'; your eddication has softened him some, an' it'll last till about noon, I jedge. Strike while the iron is hot."
So after breakfast Yan commenced:
"Mr. Raften, the creek's running dry. We want to make a pond for the cattle to drink, but we can't make a dam without two big logs across. Will you let us have the team a few minutes to place the logs?"
"It ain't fur a swimmin'-pond, is it, ye mean?" said Raften, with a twinkle in his eye.
"It would do for that as well," and Yan blushed.