"How came you in the wagon, Bill Morris?" demanded Bickford, not caring to answer his wife.
"The giant put me in," answered William.
"Where is that boy, Christopher Watson?"
"I expect he is travelin' with the show, Mr. Bickford."
"Who put you up to this mean trick?" demanded the blacksmith, wrathfully.
"Kit Watson."
"I've got an account to settle with you, William Morris. I s'pose you think you've done something pretty smart."
"I think he has, Aaron," said Mrs. Bickford, who seemed to take a malicious pleasure in opening her husband's wounds afresh.
"Mrs. Bickford, it isn't very creditable in you to triumph over your husband, just after he's been spendin' fifty cents for your amusement."
"Goodness knows, Mr. Bickford, you don't often take me to shows. I guess what you spend that way won't ruin you."