“Here we be, ma’am!” he exclaimed. “Now we’ll see whar we’re at. I gene’lly find somethin’ t’ fit the ’casion, an’ I’ll bet I kin this time.”
He rapidly turned the pages with a moistened thumb and fingers.
“‘Receipt fer horse linament.’ No; that won’t do. ‘Foot an’ mouth disease,’ ‘How t’ git fat; an’ how not t’ git fat,’ ‘Blind staggers, ‘n’ how t’ pervent,’ ‘Jell-cake—— ’”
“What,” demanded Miss Cottle sharply, “is that book? And what possible connection does it have with our affairs?”
Mr. Morrison paused, his thumb in his mouth.
“W’y, this,” he explained, “is my book of vallable inf’mation. It’s got ev’rythin’ to do with ’em, ma’am. I ain’t never be’n exactly in this ’ere fix b’fore; but I’ll bet the’s inf’mation in this ’ere book ’at’ll fit the case all right. You jus’ set down, ma’am, an’ make yourself comf’table, while——”
“This is outrageous!” snapped Miss Cottle.
“Maybe I’d better run and get my book, too,” volunteered Jimmy, who had been an interested but sadly puzzled spectator of the scene. “P’raps there’ll be somethin’ vallable in mine.”
“All right, Cap’n; run ’long,” said Peg briskly. “Now, listen t’ this, ma’am. ‘The sleepin’ fox ketches no poultry.’ That’s good; but the trouble is you ’pear to be wide-awake. Hold on; don’t git ’xcited. Here’s a little inf’mation on the subjec’ o’ fools. I copied it out the almanac nigh onto twenty years ago, an’ it can’t be beat. ‘’Xperience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other.’ An’ this, ’t I got out o’ a story book, ‘The’ ain’t nothin’ so becomin’ t’ a fool es a shet mouth.’ An’ mebbe this here has some bearin’s on the case: ‘Don’t meddle with these three things: a buzz-saw, a kickin’ mule, an’ a woman’s ’at’s mad clear through.’ They’re all alike in one pertic’lar——”
“I shall certainly sue for breach of promise!” announced Miss Cottle, treading recklessly among the onions on her way to the door.