Miss Cash sniffed. “Humph!” she declared, “you wouldn't know much worth knowin' if you did—the heft of 'em.... Oh, my savin' soul, it's a-goin' to begin! Where's my mouth organ?”
But, to her huge disappointment, her services as mouth organist were not to be requisitioned this time. Captain Hallett, taking charge of the gathering, made an announcement.
“The melodeon's been fixed,” he said, “and Miss Black's kind enough to say she'll play it for us. Take your places, all hands. Come on, now, look alive! Tut, tut, tut! Abe Hardin', for heaven's sakes, can't you pick up your moorin's, or what does ail you? Come to anchor! Set down!”
Mr. Harding was, apparently, having trouble in sitting down. He made several nervous and hurried attempts, but none was successful. His wife begged, in one of her stage whispers, to be informed if he'd been “struck deef.” “Don't you hear the cap'n talkin' to you?” she demanded.
“Course I hear him,” retorted her husband, testily, and in the same comprehensively audible whisper. “No, I ain't been struck deef—nor dumb neither.”
“Humph! You couldn't be struck any dumber than you are. You was born dumb. Set DOWN! Everybody's lookin' at you. I never was so mortified in my life.”
The harassed Abel made one more attempt. He battled savagely with his chair.
“I CAN'T set down,” he said. “This everlastin' chair won't set even. I snum I believe it ain't got but three laigs. There! Now let's see.”
He seated himself heavily and with emphasis. Mr. Jim Fletcher, whose place was next him, uttered an agonized “Ow!”
“No wonder 'twon't set even, Abe,” he snorted. “You've got the other laig up onto my foot. Yus, and it's drove half down through it by this time. Get UP! Whew!”