Ike squinted at me fiercely several times as he helped to hoist in several baskets, and for some time he did not speak, but at last he stopped, took off his hat, drew a piece of cabbage leaf from the crown, and carefully wiped his bald head with it, looking comically at me the while.
“Green silk,” he said gruffly, as he replaced the leaf. “Nature’s own growth. Never send ’em to the wash. Throw ’em away and use another.”
I laughed at the idea, and this pleased Ike, who looked at me from top to toe.
“You couldn’t load a cart,” he said at last.
“Couldn’t I?” I replied. “Why not? It seems easy enough.”
“Seems easy! of course it does, youngster. Seems easy to take a spade and dig all day, but you try, and I’m sorry for your back and jyntes.”
“But you’ve only got to put the baskets in the cart,” I argued.
“Only got to put the baskets in the cart!” grumbled Ike. “Hark at him!”
“That’s what you’ve been doing,” I continued.
“What I’ve been doing!” he said. “I’m sorry for the poor horse if you had the loading up. A cart ain’t a wagon.”