THE MILLER AND HIS CHILDREN
The puzzled look on the miller’s face disappeared as Dr. Gaston approached.
“Well, the gracious goodness!” he exclaimed. “Why, howdy, Doc.—howdy! Why, I ’m right down glad to see you. Whichever an’ whichaway did you come?”
“My little children are lost,” said Dr. Gaston, shaking the miller’s hand. The jolly smile on John Cosby’s face disappeared as suddenly as if it had been wiped out with a sponge.
“Well, now, that’s too bad—too bad,” he exclaimed, looking at his own rosy-cheeked little ones standing near.
“They were in a bateau,” said Dr. Gaston, “and I thought maybe they might have drifted down here and over the mill-dam.”
The miller’s jolly smile appeared again. “Oh, no, Doc.—no, no! Whichever an’ whichaway they went, they never went over that dam. In time of a freshet, the thing might be did; but not now. Oh, no! Ef it lies betwixt goin’ over that dam an’ bein’ safe, them babies is jest as safe an’ soun’ as mine is.”
“I think,” said Dr. Gaston, “that they started out to hunt Jake, my carriage-driver, who has run away.”
“Jake run away!” exclaimed Mr. Cosby, growing very red in the face. “Why, the impident scoundull! Hit ain’t been three days sence the ole rascal wuz here. He come an’ ’lowed that some of your wagons was a-campin’ out about two mile from here, an’ he got a bushel of meal, an’ said that if you didn’t pay me the money down I could take it out in physic. The impident ole scoundull! An’ he was jest as ’umble-come-tumble as you please—a-bowin’, an’ a-scrapin’, an’ a-howdy-do-in’.”