“Say,” I says, “Becky, it's none of my affairs, as I know of, but is that the way you usually start that horse of yours?”
She said it was. And Rosa ate the potater.
Becky asked me how to stop the launch, and I told her. She made a lot of finger signs to Lonesome, and inside of five minutes the Greased Lightning was anchored in front of us. Old man Huckleberries was still hankering to interview Todd with the pitchfork, but Becky settled that all right. She jumped in front of him, and her eyes snapped and her feet stamped and her fingers flew. And 'twould have done you good to see her dad shrivel up and get humble. I always had thought that a woman wasn't much good as a boss of the roost unless she could use her tongue, but Becky showed me my mistake. Well, it's live and l'arn.
Then Miss Huckleberries turned to us and smiled.
“ALL right,” says she; “GOO'-by.”
Them Todds took the train for the city next morning. I drove 'em to the depot. James was kind of glum, but Clarissa talked for two. Her opinion of the Cape and Capers, 'specially me, was decided. The final blast was just as she was climbing the car steps.
“Of all the barbarians,” says she; “utter, uncouth, murdering barbarians in—”
She stopped, thinking for a word, I s'pose. I didn't feel that I could improve on Becky Huckleberries conversation much, so I says:
“ALL right! GOO'-by!”