The Patriarch’s wrath passed as quickly as it had come. He speedily wandered back into his youth, and soon was so deep in the history of Simon Cruller, of Simon Cruller’s family and of Becky Stump as to be completely oblivious to his tormentor’s presence.
“Me an’ Sime Cruller was buddies,” he began at length. “That was tell we both kind o’ set our minds on gittin’ Becky Stump. You uns never seen her, eh? Well, mebbe you never seen her grave-stun. It stands be the alderberry bushes in the buryin’-groun’, an’ ef you hain’t seen it ye otter, fer then ye might git an idee what sort o’ a woman she was. Pretty? Why, she was a model, she was—a perfect model. Hair? You uns don’t often see sech hair nowadays ez Becky Stump hed—soft an’ black like. Eyes? Why, they sparkled jest like new buggy paint. An’ mighty souls, but she could plough! She wasn’t none of your modern girls ez is too proud to plough. Many a day I set over on the porch at our placet an’ looked down acrosst the walley an’ seen her a-steppin’ th’oo the fiel’, an’ I thot how I’d like to hev one han’le while she’d hev the other, an’ we’d go trampin’ along life’s furrow together.”
“Now Gran’pap, I ’low you’ve ben readin’——”
“Can’t you keep still a piece?” roared the Miller.
The Loafer returned to his pipe and silence.
“The whole thing come to a pint at a spellin’ bee up to Swampy Holler school,” continued the Patriarch, unmindful of the interruption. “Becky Stump was there an’ looked onusual pretty, fer it was cold outside an’ the win’ hed made her face all red on the drive over from home. Sime was there, too, togged out in store clothes, his hair all plastered down with bear ile, an’ with a fine silk tie aroun’ his collar that ’ud ’a’ ketched the girls real hard hed I not hed a prettier one.
“Ez luck ’ud hev it, me an’ Sime Cruller was on opposite sides. It wasn’t long afore I seen he was tryin’ to show off with his spellin’. It’s strange, but it’s a failin’ with men that ez soon ez they gits their minds set on a particular girl they wants to show off before her. Why most of ’em taller up their boots, put on their Sunday clothes an’ go walkin’ by their girl’s house twicet a day fer no reason at all but jest to be seen lookin’ togged up an’ han’som. Men allus seems to want the weemen to know they is better spellers, or better somethin’ else ’an some other feller. They ain’t no reason fer it. No common-sense woman is goin’ to merry no man simple because he can spell or wrastle better or husk more corn than anybody else. An’ yit men’ll insist on showin’ off in them wery things ’henever they gits a chancet.
“It didn’t take me five minutes to see that Sime Cruller was tryin’ to show off afore Becky Stump; was tryin’ to prove to her that he was a smarter lad than me. An’ it didn’t take me that long to concide I’d hev none of it. I seen him every time he spelled a hard un, look triumphant like at her, settin’ ez she was down be the stove; then he’d grin at me. I seen it all, an’ I spelled ez I never spelled afore, an’ a mighty fine speller I was, too, ’hen I was young. Mebbe I didn’t set all over Sime Cruller. Mebbe I didn’t spile his showin’ off. I don’t jest exactly remember what the word was, but it must ’a’ ben a long un with a heap of syllables, fer he missed it an’ set down lookin’ ez mad ez a bull ’hen he steps inter a bees’ nes’. Three others missed it, an’ it come to me. Why do you know them letters jest rolled off my tongue ez easy. You otter ’a’ seen the look Becky Stump give me an’ the look Sime give me. Huh!
“When intermission come, Sime he gits off in one corner an’ begins blowin’ to a lot of the boys. I heard him talkin’ loud ’bout me, so I steps over. He sayd it was all a mistake; that he could beat me at anything—spellin’, wrastlin’ or fishin’. He was showin’ off agin, fer he talked loud like Becky Stump could hear. I makes up me mind I wouldn’t stand his blowin’.
“‘See here, Sime Cruller!’ I sais, sais I, ‘you uns is nawthin’ but a blow-horn,’ I sais. ‘You claims you can wrastle. Why, I can th’ow you in less time than it takes to tell it, an’ if you steps outside I’ll prove me words.’