Josiah’s face fell. “So they be,” sez he.
But he wuz loath to give up this floatin’ woodhouse and went on:
“How handy it would be for a picnic, jest fill the woodhouse full of Highlariers and set off, baskets, bundles and all. It would do away with parasols; no jabbin’ ’em into a man’s eyes, or proddin’ his ears with the pints of umbrells. Or on funeral occasions,” sez he, “jest load the mourners right in, onhitch the room and sail off. Why it would be invaluable.”
But Uncle Nate wuz more conservative and cautious. He sez, “What if it should break 200 loose in the night and start off by itself? It would be a danger to the hull river. How would boats feel to meet a woodhouse? It would jam right into ’em and sink ’em—sunk by a woodhouse! It wouldn’t sound well. And row boats would always be afraid of it, they’d be thinkin’ it would be liable to come onto ’em at any time onbeknown to ’em, ’twouldn’t have no whistle or anything.”
“Yes it would,” sez Josiah hautily; “I laid out to fix it somehow with a whistle.”
“But it couldn’t whistle itself if it sot off alone.”
“Well,” sez Josiah, scratchin’ his head, “I hain’t got that idee quite perfected, but I might have a self actin’ whistle, a stationary self movin’ gong, or sunthin’ of that kind.” But I didn’t wait to hear any more; I left the room, and I shouldn’t wonder if I shet the door pretty hard.