When he spied me, he headed in our direction, an’ as soon as he had finished the chorus, he called: “Hello, Happy! What are you hidin’ from up here?”
I jumped to my feet, an’ Horace got to his feet, too, an’ bowed an’ said: “How do ya do, Mr. Carmichael?”
A quick change came over the Friar’s face. It got cold an’ haughty; and I was flabbergasted, because I had never seen it get that way before. “How do you do,” he said, as cheery an’ chummy as a hail-storm.
But he didn’t need to go to the trouble o’ freezin’ himself solid; Horace was just as thin skinned as he was when it was necessary, an’ he slipped on a snuffer over his welcomin’ smile full as gloomy as was the Friar’s. I was disgusted: nothin’ pesters me worse ’n to think a lot o’ two people who can’t bear each other. It leaves it so blame uncertain which one of us has poor taste.
Well, we had one o’ those delightful conflabs about the weather an’ “how hot it was daytimes, but so cool an’ refreshin’ nights,” an’, “I must be goin’ now,” an’ “oh, what’s the use o’ goin’ so soon”—and so on. Then Horace an’ the Friar bowed an’ the Friar rode away as silent an’ dignified as a dog which has been sent back home.
“Well,” sez Horace, after we’d seated ourselves again, “I never expected to see that man out here. I wouldn’t ’a’ been more surprised to have seen a blue fish with yaller goggles on, come swimmin’ up the pass.”
“Oh, wouldn’t ya?” sez I. “Well, that man ain’t no more like a blue fish with goggles on than you are. He’s ace high anywhere you put him, an’ don’t you forget that.”
“You needn’t arch up your back about it,” he sez. “I haven’t said anything again’ him. I gave up goin’ to church on his account.”
“That’s nothin’ to brag about,” sez I. “A man’ll give up goin’ to church simply because they hold it on Sunday, which is the one day o’ the week when he feels most like stackin’ up his feet on top o’ somethin’ an’ smokin’ a pipe. A man who couldn’t plan out an excuse for not goin’ to church wouldn’t be enough intelligent to know when he was hungry.”
“You must ’a’ set up late last night to whet your sarcasm!” sez Horace, swellin’ up a little. “Why don’t you run along and hold up a screen, so ’at folks can’t look at your parson.”