But settin' made his nerves worse than ever! "I don't know what is the matter with me, Cap'n Snow," he says. "My physicians seemed to think I should find what I needed here, but I don't!—I don't! I am more depressed and enervated than ever."
"I know what you need," I said emphatic.
"Do you indeed? What, pray?"
"Somethin' to keep you interested," I told him. "Your life's like a wharf timber that the worms have been at—there's too many 'bores' in it. If you could find somethin' bran-new to interest you, you'd be lively enough. I'd risk the depression then—and the enervation, too, whatever that is."
Oh, horrible! How could I joke about a matter of life and death?
Well, so it went for the two days and in the evenin' of the second day, Lot come tiptoein' into my room. He was all nerved up. The next mornin' was the time he'd planned to go to camp-meetin'; and how could he go now?
"Why not?" says I. "I'll be all right. Your Aunt Lucindy's comin' to keep house, ain't she?"
"Yes—yes, she's comin'. But how can I leave Cousin Lemuel? He won't want me to go, I'm sure."
"So'm I," I says; "he'll kick as a matter of principle. But if you're gone afore he knows it, he'll have to like it—or lump it, one or t'other. See here, Lot Deacon; you take my advice and clear out to-morrow early, afore the bug-hunter's nerves twitter loud enough to wake him. You can get our breakfast and leave it on the table out here in the hall. I can manage to hobble that far. Afore dinner Aunt Lucindy'll be on deck."
He brightened up consider'ble. "I might do that," he says. "And anyway Aunt Lucindy's likely to be here afore breakfast. She's always terrible prompt. But will Cousin Lemuel forgive me, do you think?"