“How stylish I would look.”
Sez he, “Samantha, I will go in a-bathin’; jest see,” sez he, “how gayly they swim and float through the water, all dressed up in bright colors; how stylish it would look, what a air it would gin us to see you and me a-floatin’ and a-bobbin’ up and down in that element! It would be sunthin’ so uneek to tell to Deacon Gowdey and Ury.
“And then,” sez he, “we could lead the fashion to home, we could turn the buzz saw-mill dam into a perfect carnival of delight.”
I looked coldly at him, and sez I, “You’re not goin’ to make a fool of yourself at your age by bathin’ and foolin’ round in the water.”
“Why,” sez he, “you’re always preachin’ up bathin’ to me; you’ve lectered me more times than I’ve got fingers and toes about bathin’; and now that I’m willin’ to foller it up, you draw me back.”
And agin he looked longin’ly at the dancin’ surf and the gay-robed bathers and the funny bathin’ housen.
But I sez, “A big pail of water and some soap and towels and the seclusion of your bedroom are very different from makin’ a spectacle of yourself here in this hant of display.”
I broke it up.
And then at Trouville, though I spoze nobody would believe it, and he denies it now, yet sech is the force of custom and fashion on the mind of my beloved pardner that I d’no but that man would have played cards and won money mebby up as high as 25 cents, if I’d allowed it.
He denies the awful charge, and mebby he’s right. But he talked strange, strange for a deacon and a grandfather.