“Ef ye was jest haaf to let drive at me, ye’d break my neck,” said Mr. Stamps, “an ye ain’t a-gwine ter do it. Ef ye was, Tom, ye’d be a bigger fool than I took ye fer. Lemme go.”
He looked so diminutive and weak-eyed, as he made these remarks, that it was no wonder Tom released him helplessly, though he was obliged to thrust his hands deep into his pockets and keep them under control.
“I thought I’d given you one lesson,” he burst forth; “I thought——”
Mr. Stamps interrupted him, continuing to argue his side of the question, evidently feeling it well worth his while to dispose of it on the spot.
“Ye weigh three hundred, Tom,” he said, “ef ye weigh a pound, an’ I don’t weigh but ninety, ’n ye couldn’t handle me keerful enuf not to leave me in a fix as wouldn’t be no credit to ye when ye was done; ’n it ’ed look kinder bad for ye to meddle with me, anyhow. An’ the madder ye get, the more particular ye’ll be not to. Thar’s whar ye are, Tom; an’ I ain’t sich a fool as not to know it.”
His perfect confidence in the strength of his position, and in Tom’s helplessness against it, was a thing to be remembered. Tom remembered it long afterwards, though at the moment it only roused him to greater heat.
“Now then,” he demanded, “let’s hear what you’re driving at. What I want to know is what you’re driving at. Let’s hear.”
Mr. Stamps’s pale eyes fixed themselves with interest on his angry face. He had seated himself in his chair again, and he watched Tom closely as he rambled on in his simple, uncomplaining way.
“Ye’re fond o’ laughin’ at me round yere at the store, Tom,” he remarked, “an’ I ain’t agin it. A man don’t make nothin’ much by bein’ laughed at, I rekin, but he don’t lose nothin’ nuther, an’ that’s what I am agin. I rekin ye laugh ’cos I kinder look like a fool—an’ I hain’t nothin’ agin thet, nuther, Lord! not by a heap. A man ain’t a-gwine to lose nothin’ by lookin’ like a fool. I hain’t never, not a cent, Tom. But I ain’t es big a fool es I look, an’ I don’t ’low ye air, uther. Thar’s whar I argy from. Ye ain’t es big a fool as ye look, an’ ye’d be in a bad fix ef ye was.”
“Go on,” ordered Tom, “and leave me out.”