They lay a long time discussing what they should say and do when at last they were come into the presence of the great man. Suddenly a notion entered the mind of Socky that, in order to keep the favor of fortune, he must rise and clap his hand three times upon the round top of the posts at the foot of the bed. Accordingly he rose and satisfied this truly pagan impulse.
Then he repeated the story of his uncle and the bear over and over again, pausing thoughtfully at the point of severest action and adding a little color to heighten the effect. Here and there Sue prompted him, and details arose which seemed to merit careful consideration.
"I wouldn't wonder but what Uncle Silas must 'a' spit on his hand before he struck the bear," said Socky, remembering how strong men often prepared themselves for a difficult undertaking.
When the story had been amplified, in a generous degree, and well committed to memory, they began to talk of Lizzie Cornell and her cousin, the red-headed boy, and planned how they would seek them out next day and defy them with the last great achievement of their Uncle Silas.
"He's a nasty thing," the girl exclaimed, suddenly.
"I feel kind o' sorry for him," said Socky, with a sigh.
"Why?"
"Cos he thinks his uncle beats the world an' he ain't nowhere."
"Maybe he'll want to fight," said Sue.
"Then I'll fetch him a cuff."