The man told of finding me on his little veranda, and I told of my ride with Dug Draper, after which Uncle Peabody said:
"I'm goin' to put in your hoss and feed him, Comptroller."
"And I'm goin' to cook the best dinner I ever cooked in my life," said Aunt Deel.
I knew that my new friend must be even greater than the Dunkelbergs, for there was a special extravagance in their tone and manner toward him which I did not fail to note. His courtesy and the distinction of his address, as he sat at our table, were not lost upon me, either. During the meal I heard that Dug Draper had run off with a neighbor's horse and buggy and had not yet returned. Aunt Deel said that he had taken me with him out of spite, and that he would probably never come back—a suspicion justified by the facts of history.
When the great man had gone Uncle Peabody took me in his lap and said very gently and with a serious look:
"You didn't think I meant it, did ye?—that you would have to go 'way from here?"
"I don't know," was my answer.
"Course I didn't mean that. I just wanted ye to see that it wa'n't goin' to do for you to keep on tippin' things over so."
I sat telling them of my adventures and answering questions, flattered by their tender interest, until milking time. I thoroughly enjoyed all that. When I rose to go out with Uncle Peabody, Aunt Deel demanded my shoes.
"Take 'em right off," said she. "It ain't a goin' to do to wear 'em common—no, sir-ee! They're for meetin' or when company comes—ayes!"