"That's the kind of wife Ah wants, John—and how kin Ah sit and listen to Sary sing? Mebbe she kin churn better'n that one I saw in the Movies, but Ah bet a plugged penny that she cain't play a pianner!"
Jeb's tone was so emphatic at the last accusation of Sary's short-comings, that John almost rolled from his horse with laughter.
Now Jeb had said all that he had to say, so he waited patiently for John to get over his spasm of laughter. Then he looked at him as if to ask what had he to say about such positive evidence as he had brought forth, regarding the Movie girl making the best kind of a rancher's wife?
"Oh, Jeb! How I love your innocence!" gasped John, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "I shall certainly sue the Movies for betraying your trust and faith in womankind. For they sure did more than amuse you for your dime. You took for a solid fact, all the silly mush you saw on the screen as real life. But, it was reel life, Jeb, spelled with two 'e's' instead of the genuine r-e-a-l way.
"Jeb, how'd you like to spend every nickel you've saved, on a girl with dyed hair, belladonna eyes, painted lips you could never kiss, blackened eye-lashes and eye-brows, and goodness only knows what else she puts on and takes off to look pretty in the pictures?"
Jeb listened with loose jaw and wide-opened eyes to this strange description of all the lady-loves he knew on the screen.
"Why, Jeb, these blonde Movie beauties have a different husband every few months. The ones who play star-leads make the biggest splash in the puddles, but the little ones try to mimic the big stars and get into all sorts of trouble. I haven't heard of but two or three who could treat a good husband decently. As for sitting at home playing and singing for you—ha, ha, ha! It costs about five hundred dollars each evening to entertain one of them.
"Churn? Did you say she looked so cute in a big bungalow apron churning the butter on a vine-clad porch? Didn't the porch open right out on a little pasture and tidy barnyard, where her devoted husband could stand admiring her? Was it a dear little one-and-a-half story vine-clad house painted white, with green wooden shutters?"
"Uh, huh! Just so! Did you see that gal, John?" eagerly asked Jeb.
"Jeb, the Movies use that same little house and painted scenery for every farm-picture they make. Sometimes a deserted wife hangs to the post of the porch and plans to kill herself. Or sometimes it is the husband who hears how his head man ran away with his foolish little wife. But, Jeb, never believe anything you see in the Movies, for they have turned more heads than you can count, by their subtle ways. Everything always ends right in the Movies, but it is seldom so in real life.