"Evenin', Miz' Day," observed Walky, eyeing Aunt 'Mira and her niece askance. "Naow say it!"
"Say what, Mr. Dexter?" asked Mrs. Day puzzled.
"Why, I been gittin' of it all over taown," groaned the expressman. "Sarves me right, I s'pose. I see the reedic'lous side o' most things that happen ter other folks—an' they gotter right ter laff at me."
"Why, what's happened ye?" asked Aunt 'Mira.
"Jefers-pelters!" ejaculated Walky. "Ain't Janice tol' ye?"
"Nothin' about you," Mrs. Day assured him.
"She'd be a good 'un ter tell secrets to, wouldn't she?" the expressman said, with a queer twist of his face. "Ain't ye heard how I dumped m' load—an' Josephus—inter the lake?" and he proceeded to recount the accident with great relish and good humor.
Marty and his father, bringing in the milk, stopped to listen and laugh. At the conclusion of the story, as Marty was pumping a pail of water for the kitchen shelf, Walky said:
"Gimme a dipper o' that, boy. My mouth's so dry I can't speak the trewth. That's it—thanky!"
"Ye oughtn't to be dry, Walky—comin' right past Lem Parraday's ho-tel," remarked Mr. Day, with a chuckle.