"What 'll become of us?" said he on the nail-keg.
"Have t' be sawed an' trimmed an' planed an' matched an' go into town." It was the voice above the cracker-barrel.
"Not me," said the occupant of the nail-keg. "Too many houses an' folks an' too much noise. Couldn't never stan' it."
"Village is a cur'ous place," said another, who had never been sober when he saw it. "Steeples an' buildin's an' folks reel 'round in pairs. Seems so the sidewalk flowed like a river, an' nothin' stan's still long 'nough so ye can see how 't looks."
The speaker was interrupted by the proprietor of the Pitkin general store, who came downstairs and flung himself on the top of the counter.
"Goin't' the Fourth?" said he of the cracker-barrel.
"Might as well—got t' hev a tooth drawed."
"I've got one that's been growlin' purty spiteful," said the nail-kegger. "Dunno but I might as well go an' hev it tore out."
"I got t' be snaked, too," said the cracker-barrel man.
"Reg'lar tooth-drawin' down thar to-morrer," said a voice from the counter.