“And then, to cap all, your pardner wuz took from you, before even the catnip wuz put to steepin’—before his baby’s eyes could look any comfort into yours. Poor creeter! what a hard time on’t you did have.
“But when the baby wuz born, he brung a new life to you—you see your dead-and-gone pardner’s first tender love a-shinin’ through the little face, all the passion and dross and dissapintment of a pardner’s love filtered through the divine and satisfyin’ sweetness of a child’s love.
“Oh, he has made life and Spain different things to you, and you’ve sprunted up and done well—you’ve done first rate! You are a-bringin’ up little Alfonso jest as well as I could, and I d’no but better, for, bein’ younger, you can git round spryer and find out new things to teach him. His little hands, too, have drawed you and Spain nigher to each other; you think as much agin of each other as you ust to, and I’m glad on’t.
“And how do you do?” sez I, a-holdin’ out my hand to little Alfonso.
Sez I, “Are you pretty well, Bub?”
He answered real pretty, and I then and there introduced little Adrian to him, and I sez—
“I wish I had both of you children to Jonesville for a month in strawberry time or blackberry time—it would do you both lots of good.” And I sez to his ma—
“It seems to me he looks ruther pimpin’; have you gin him any smartweed lately?” Sez I, “A syrup of smartweed and catnip, half and half, sweetened with honey, would set him right up agin, and if you’d like to try it, I will write and have Philury send you over a bundle of the herbs.”
She hesitated—I see she felt a delicacy about makin’ me so much trouble.
But I sez, “It won’t be no trouble at all—we’ve got more’n a floursack full up in the woodhouse chamber.”