“I haven’t a minute to talk,” cried the deacon. “Have you seen our Jack ride by with Neighbor Sellick?”
“Yes, about twenty minutes ago,” replied Syd.
“So long!” exclaimed the deacon. “Driving fast?”
“Pretty good jog,” replied Syd. “What’s to pay?”
“I declare, we must do better than this, squire, or they’ll be there first, in spite of us!” And Mr. Chatford chirped, and shouted, “Get up! go ’long!” and lashed old Maje again, to the no small astonishment of his nephew, who, gazing after the cantering horse and rattling buggy, wondered if the usually slow and quiet deacon had not been taking a glass of something strong.
CHAPTER XXXIX
A TURN OF FORTUNE.
Sellick had a better horse than his neighbors, and he too had been using the whip a little since Jack respectfully declined working for him, preferring to go to jail. The merry man could not help thinking what a capital anecdote this would be to relate of anybody else; but, as I have said, he did not greatly relish a joke at his own expense.
His spirits rallied a little as they entered the city, and he said laughingly, “You remind me of the man on his way to the gallows, who was offered a free pardon if he would marry a sartin woman in the crowd, not over ’n’ above handsome. He looked at her, shook his head: ‘Sharp nose, thin lips,’ says he; ‘drive on, cartman!’ So, ruther ’n work for me, you’ll go to jail! ha, ha, ha!” And Sellick began to think he would have to tell the story, much as it reflected on his reputation as an employer.