“Gosh!—I thought you’d say a palace, to the very least,” said Bill, “after turning up your nose at this place.”
David unfolded his hands, and put one up to feel of his nose. It never had been turned up at the end, and he was relieved to find it still the same.
Bill burst into such a guffaw that two old crows flying over the field, stopped their own hoarse croakings to listen in amazement.
“Got any more like you over there to the little brown house?” asked Bill, when he came out of his amusement. “Say, boy, I’d give a dollar ef you would stay here.”
This made David’s distress very dreadful.
“You can cry, ef you want to, though ’tain’t very polite, after an invitation like you’ve got,” said Bill, “an’ not set there tying your face into knots. You ain’t a-goin’ to be kep here agin your will. Don’t get scared, youngster.”
“Won’t you keep me?” breathed David in a shaking voice.
“Me? My land o’ Goshen, I sh’d say not,” declared Bill, slapping his overalls with a red hand. “What do I want with a boy, pray tell?”
“I’m so glad,” exclaimed Davie in delight, “that you don’t want a boy, Mr. Bill,” and his face shone, as the cart rolled up to the barn door. David flung himself flat on his face, just in time before they bumped over the sill.
As “Mr. Bill” didn’t want a boy under any consideration, David reached the hay-loft in a comfortable condition, and by the time that Farmer Brown and Tom, Dick, and Harry came up, he was shouting and laughing at a great rate as he helped to pack the sweet-smelling hay on the big loft.