“Why, you see,” explained Ira patiently, “you take a pine or a spruce log and it’s got knots in it and it isn’t so good for sawing.”
“Well, what was your stunt?”
“Me? Oh, I untied the knots,” replied Ira gravely.
There was a moment of silence. Then most of the audience chuckled. But the boy with the running shoes flushed.
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” he asked irritably. “You’re one of those ‘country wits’ we read about, eh? Dressed for the part, too! For the love of mud, where’d you get the costume?”
“Oh, cut it out, Gene,” said the dark-haired fellow. “Run along, Rowland, and find your room.”
“Better get a job as a scarecrow,” sneered the boy addressed as Gene. “Say, those clothes must have cost you as much as six dollars, eh? If you’d had another dollar you might have got them big enough.”
“They’re all right for me,” responded Ira calmly. “And [the coat slips off right easy].”
