‘What I been doin’ ter let thet notion past me?’ inquired Ephraim cheerfully of himself. ‘I declar’ I had her all along; on’y when ye up ’n said ye wouldn’t come, I ’low I let her slip fer a minnit.’
‘I wish you’d explain,’ said Lucius fretfully.
‘Comin’, Luce, comin’. Don’t ye go fer ter knock thet idee out er my head agen with yer talk. Why, I war workin’ along the very same lines myself when we began ter talk, if ye recollect. Now, see hyar. This is the way I put it up. Your par, he says ye’re not ter go fightin’—and I swow it’s the last thing I want ter do—Old Stonewall he ’lows ye orter do ez yer par says, and ye ’low ye orter agree with both of ’em. Ain’t thet so?’
‘That’s so,’ admitted Lucius forlornly.
‘Ezacly! Waal now, Luce, I’ll give ye the whole idee in a par’ble. Ye know thet black bull way down ter Holmes’s place?’ Lucius nodded. ‘Waal then, we’ll suppose yer par sez ter ye: “Luce,” sez he, “that bull er Holmes’s is powerful servigerous. I’ll not hev ye goin inter the field ter take him by the tail!”’
‘Well?’ laughed Lucius, as Ephraim paused to wrestle with his idea.
‘Waal, ye ’low ye’ll do ez yer par sez; but all the same ye hev an outrageous hankerin’ ter see thet bull er Holmes’s. Now, what d’ ye reckon ye’d do?’
‘Why, sit on the fence and look at him,’ answered Lucius.
‘Ezacly!’ cried Ephraim joyously. ‘Thet’s what I ’lowed ye’d do. And think no harm of it?’ he finished anxiously.
‘No,’ said Lucius; ‘I wasn’t told not to look at the bull. I don’t see how there could be any harm in doing that.’