“I never saw him on the place before,” replied Billy, “though I rather guess he’s the one Mis’ Sellick says come to the door last evening and asked for you.”
“I came to your door, and afterwards slept under your roof,” Jack insisted. “Since you offer to bet, I’ll bet ye,—well, I’m no gambler, but I’ll say my hat against a bowl of bread and milk.”
“No more milk! no more milk!” said Sellick, good-humoredly. “That cupful of yisterday soured on my stomach, if it didn’t on yours. Call it a breakfast; I’m willing.”
“All the better,” said Jack. “Now just step into your barn, and in the left-hand farther corner you’ll find a heap of straw, which you’ll agree has been slept on. There’s a pitchfork standing behind it; and there’s a bound bundle, which I used as a pillow. I walked in last evening and made myself at home, while you were leading your horse to the pasture.”
“I can believe all that,” said Sellick readily. “But my barn ain’t my house.”
“I said nothing about your house; I bet that I slept under your roof.”
“Sonny, I give it up! Keep on in the way you have begun, and you’ll make a joker, by the time you’re a hundred year old. But what in sixty have you come here for this morning? If that’s a joke too, I can’t see it.”
“I thought you might like to finish that little ride we began yesterday. Not that I’m at all anxious about it,” Jack explained, “but your heart seemed set on it; and, thinking it over, I concluded ’t was too bad to disappoint you.”
“And you mean—” Sellick, sitting by his cow, paused to grin at the young milker in puzzled astonishment.
“Yes, I do!” said Jack laughing; “I don’t mean to spill any more milk, nor lock up any more court-rooms, nor go through any more culverts, very soon.” Then, as Sellick still looked incredulous, he added, more seriously, “I’ve thought it all over, and made up my mind to just this, if I’ve done anything to be taken to jail for, why, then, take me to jail, if you want to.”