Simon was too certain of his position as a favourite to be backed down.
“I guess if speech of the people is correct,” he replied sturdily, “it’s well enough known why you’re ticklin’ out when you think of Imogene’s trip up-country.”
“F’r instance, now,” suggested Hiram, his face very hard.
Peak bent and poked the fire, sniffing disdainfully.
“F’r instance, I said,” repeated the showman.
“Say, look-a-here, Hime,” snapped Peak, whirling in his chair in his turn, “do you think for a minute that I don’t know why you’ve been makin’ all these trips up-country lately—and you a-sayin’ that you’ve got to go up and transact a little more bus’ness about them damages of Imogene’s? Now it’s about time to take some of the cuss of the thing off’n that elephant.”
“F’r instance, I said!” yelled Hiram, standing up and clacking his fingers imperiously under Peak’s nose. “Out with it!”
“Don’t you suppose I know that you’re courtin’ that tow-headed widder that’s got a farm and twenty thousand dollars in the bank? Do you think that you can fool me that’s summered and wintered with you? You’re courtin’ her, that’s what you’re doin’, and you’re layin’ it all off onto that elephant. Now don’t give me no more flim-flam. ’Tain’t professional. It’s pickin’ me up for a sucker.”
The narrow eyes of the giant sparkled with suspicion and with the jealousy of the companion who is being supplanted and realises it.
For a little while Hiram stood and glared at him and then sat down in his chair again. Either a sense of guilt, craft or desire to placate a friend caused him to moderate his demeanour.