“Why, ourn—your Uncle Harvey’s.”
“His’n? What does he want with a pew?”
“Wants it to set in. What did you reckon he wanted with it?”
“Why, I thought he’d be in the pulpit.”
Rot him, I forgot he was a preacher. I see I was up a stump again, so I played another chicken-bone and got another think. Then I says:
“Blame it, do you suppose there ain’t but one preacher to a church?”
“Why, what do they want with more?”
“What!—to preach before a king? I never did see such a girl as you. They don’t have no less than seventeen.”
“Seventeen! My land! Why, I wouldn’t set out such a string as that, not if I never got to glory. It must take ’em a week.”
“Shucks, they don’t all of ’em preach the same day—only one of ’em.”