“They don’t make Dan’l any better eatin’,” objected his mother.
“Maybe not. But don’t you see? Well!”
Homer’s laugh was an embarrassed one. “I’m goin’ to put Dan’l an’ Gettysburg through their tricks right in the store window.”
“You ben’t?” and the mother looked in rapt admiration at her clever son.
“I be!” answered Homer, triumphantly.
“I don’t know, boy, jest what I think o’ it,” said his mother, slowly. “’Tain’t exactly a—a gentlemanly sort o’ thing to do; be it?”
“I reckon I ben’t a gentleman, Mother,” replied Homer, with his jolly laugh.
“Tell me all about it.”
“Well, I was feedin’ the turkeys when Mr. Richards druv in. He said he heered I had some trick turkeys, an’ he’d like to see ’em. Lucky enough, I hadn’t fed ’em; they was awful hungry, an’ I tell you they never did their tricks better.”
“What did Mr. Richards say?”