They went up High Street and turned into the Upper Middletown Road. Not far beyond the forks a load of hay came into view. The road was wide enough here for the hay and the automobile to pass; but when the car came up behind the load, and Janice tooted her horn, the driver paid not the least attention.
“Now, ain’t that mean of him?” cried Marty. “He hears ye, unless he’s as deaf as Uncle Abram Moles was, and they say he insisted on his ear-trumpet bein’ buried with him for fear he wouldn’t hear Gabriel on Resurrection Morn.”
“Why, Marty! that sounds awfully irreverent,” gasped Janice.
“It’s the truth, jest the same,” returned her cousin, complacently. “Uncle Abram was drefful deaf and no mistake. They tell about a city chap who come up here to take board with Uncle Abram’s people and who tried to be awful perlite to the old codger. One day at dinner the city chap refused a secon’ helpin’ and old Uncle Abram urged it on him.
“‘No, thanks,’ says the chap, ‘I’ve had sufficient.’
“‘Been a-fishin’?’ says Uncle Abram.
“The city chap shakes his head more emphatic and says: ‘I’ve had a-plenty.’
“‘Dew tell!’ says Uncle Abram. ‘Caught twenty!’
“At that the other feller gets some mad, and he rips out: ‘Ye old fule!’
“‘Broke yer pole?’ repeats Uncle Abram, quite innercent, and that closed the discussion.”