“Oh! we want to go to see dear Mr. Beebe and dear Mrs. Beebe, you know. We’ve been wanting to go for a good many days; and Johnny couldn’t come over to our house this morning, and everybody was busy, so it was a good time;” Elyot kept on talking, under the impression that the farmer wouldn’t look so if conversation went on.
“Well, where’s Mr. Beebe live?” demanded the farmer after an interval of despair.
“Why, don’t you know? I know the place just as easy,” exclaimed Elyot with a little laugh.
“Where is’t?”
“It’s down about there;” Elyot gave a wide sweep to his arm, thereby almost knocking off the farmer’s broad-brimmed straw hat; “and he has such lots and lots of shoes”—as an after-thought.
“Shoes? be ye talkin’ of a shoe-shop?” asked the farmer.
“Why, of course. I thought you knew that,” remarked Elyot in disdain. “And dear Mr. Beebe will say”—
“Never mind what he’ll say till he gets ye,” said the farmer grimly. “Now, can’t ye remember where that Mr. Beebe lives? I’ll be switched, if I don’t b’lieve it’s Badgertown.”
“Yes, yes, that’s it; of course he lives there,” said Elyot, nodding furiously. “And please, aren’t we most there? I like your wagon; but we ought to hurry, ’cause Mr. and Mrs. Beebe will ask us to dinner, and”—
“Land o’ Goshen, I am in a scrape!” exclaimed the old farmer, slapping his knee with a dingy hand. “Here I be with two young ones on my hands, an’ don’t know no more’n one o’ them what to do. An’ I can’t go clear back to them shoe-shop Beebes, an’ I don’t durst go forrards. Well, mebbe some one’ll heave along, who’s goin’ to Badgertown, an’ll take ’em.”