'Tain' nuthin'if worry over,' said Uncle Eb. 'If I don' never lose more'n a little money I shan't feel terrible bad. We're all young yit. Got more'n a million dollars wuth o' good health right here 'n this room. So well, I'm 'shamed uv it! Man's more decent if he's a leetle bit sickly. An' thet there girl Bill's agreed t'marry ye! Why! 'Druther hev her 'n this hull city o' New York.
'So had I,' was my answer.
'Wall, you am'no luckier 'n she is—not a bit,' he added. 'A good man's better 'n a gol'mine ev'ry time.
'Who knows,' said Hope. 'He may be president someday.
'Ther's one thing I hate,' Uncle El continued. 'That's the idee o hevin' the woodshed an' barn an' garret full o' them infernal wash bilers. Ye can't take no decent care uv a hoss there 'n the stable' they're so piled up. One uv 'em tumbled down top o' me t'other day. 'Druther 'twould a been a panther. Made me s'mad I took a club an' knocked that biler into a cocked hat. 'Tain't right! I'm sick o' the sight uv 'em.
'They'll make a good bonfire someday,' said Hope.
'Don't believe they'd burn,' he answered sorrowfully, 'they're tin.
'Couldn't we bury 'em?' I suggested.
'Be a purty costly funeral,' he answered thoughtfully. 'Ye'd hev to dig a hole deeper n Tupper's dingle.
'Couldn't you give them away?' I enquired.