“He had a jolly long good-bye with her,” shouted Uncle Abel. “Look here, Jim! I ain’t goin’ to stand by and see a nephew of mine bungfoodled by no girl; an’, I tell you I seen ’em huggin’ and kissin’ and canoodlin’ for half an hour at Buckolts’ Gate!”
“It’s a—a— Look here, Uncle Abel, be careful what you say. You’ve got the bull by the tail again, that’s what it is!” Jim’s face grew whiter—and it had been white enough on account of the drink. “How did you know it was them? You’re always mistaking people. It might have been someone else.”
“I know Harry Dale on horseback two miles off!” roared Uncle Abel. “And I knowed her by her cape.”
It was Mary’s turn to gasp and stare at Uncle Abel.
“Uncle Abel,” she managed to say, “Uncle Abel! Wasn’t it at our Lower Sliprails you saw them and not Buckolts’ Gate?”
“Well!” bellowed Uncle Abel. “You might call ’em the ‘Lower Sliprails,’ but I calls ’em Buckolts’ Gate! They lead to’r’ds Buckolts’, don’t they? Hey? Them other sliprails”—jerking his arms in the direction of the upper paddock “them theer other sliprails that leads outer Reid’s lane I calls Reid’s Sliprails. I don’t know nothing about no upper or lower, or easter or wester, or any other la-di-dah names you like to call ’em.”
“Oh, uncle,” cried Mary, trembling like a leaf, “why didn’t you explain this before? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“What cause have I got to tell any of you everything I sez or does or thinks? It ’ud take me all me time. Ain’t you got any more brains than Ryan’s bull, any of you? Hey!—You’ve got heads, but so has cabbages. Explain! Why, if the world wasn’t stuffed so full of jumped-up fools there’d be never no need for explainin’.”
Mary left the table.
“What is it, Mary?” cried Aunt Emma.