“Didn’t used to be so in the good ole days, did it, Susie?” said he, with a long-drawn sigh. “I used to have plenty of niggers to do that ar mean work. Choppin’ wood ain’t gentleman’s work, Susie—no it ain’t!”
“But somebody must do it, Godfrey,” said Mrs. Evans.
“So they must; but I can’t seem to stoop to it, somehow. Here comes Dave. Make him do it.”
“David is tired out, most likely. He’s been tramping through the fields all the afternoon.”
“An’ hain’t I tired out too, I’d like to know?” exclaimed Godfrey. “Here I’ve been an’ hoofed it down to the landin’ an’ worked like a good fellow at that shootin’ match. Whew! It jest makes me ache all over to think of all I’ve been an’ done since dinner. ’Sides, Dave’s got no sort o’ right to go a trampin’ ’round the fields all the arternoon. He’d oughter be to hum straightenin’ up things. But it won’t be so long—not longer nor next week, nohow—kase that thar bar’l will——”
“Now, Godfrey!” interrupted Mrs. Evans.
“Now, ole woman!” retorted Godfrey.
“I knew you didn’t mean what you said to-day at the dinner table,” said his wife, “and I wish you wouldn’t talk so before the boys.”
“About that thar bar’l, with the eighty thousand dollars into it? I did mean it, an’ I tell ye I will talk so, too!”
“Then it is high time somebody was taking charge of your children. David may be able to resist such temptations, but I don’t want to have him put to the test. You will certainly have a bad influence over Dan, for you will make him dishonest.”