“So, Huldy, she thought there weren’t no way to convince him but to let him try: so she took the eggs out, and fixed ’em all nice in the nest; and then she come back and found old Tom a-skirmishin’ with the parson pretty lively, I tell ye. Ye see, old Tom, he didn’t take the idee at all; and he flopped and gobbled, and fit the parson: and the parson’s wig got ’round so that his cue stuck straight out over his ear, but he’d got his blood up. Ye see, the old doctor was used to carryin’ his p’ints o’ doctrine; and he hadn’t fit the Arminians and Socinians to be beat by a tom-turkey; and finally he made a dive and ketched him by the neck in spite o’ his floppin’, and stroked him down, and put Huldy’s apron ’round him.
“‘There, Huldy,’ he says, quite red in the face, ‘we’ve got him now;’ and he travelled off to the barn with him as lively as a cricket.
“Huldy came behind, just chokin’ with laugh, and afraid the minister would look ’round and see her.
“‘Now, Huldy, we’ll crook his legs, and set him down,’ says the parson, when they got him to the nest; ‘you see he is getting quiet, and he’ll set there all right.’
“And the parson, he sot him down; and old Tom, he sot there solemn enough and held his head down all droopin’, lookin’ like a rail pious old cock, as long as the parson sot by him.
“‘There: you see how still he sets,’ says the parson to Huldy.
“Huldy was ’most dyin’ for fear she should laugh. ‘I’m afraid he’ll get up,’ says she, ‘when you do.’
“‘Oh no, he won’t!’ says the parson, quite confident. ‘There, there,’ says he, layin’ his hands on him as if pronouncin’ a blessin’.
“But when the parson riz up, old Tom, he riz up too, and began to march over the eggs.
“‘Stop, now!’ says the parson. ‘I’ll make him get down agin; hand me that corn-basket; we’ll put that over him.’