"Say—ain't you got no feelings, you idjiot?"
"Oh—" said Seffy. And then: "But what's feelings got to do with cow-pasture?"
"Oach! No wonder he wants to be an anchel, and wiss the anchels stand—holding sings in his hands and on his head! He's too good for this wile world. He'd linger shifering on the brink and fear to launch away all his durn life—if some one didn't push him in. So here goes!"
This was spoken to the skies, apparently, but now he turned to his son again.
"Look a-yere, you young dummer-ux,[2] feelings is the same to gals like Sally, as money is to you and me. You ken buy potatoes wiss 'em! Do you understand?"
Seffy said that he did, now.
"Well, then, I'fe tried to buy that pasture-field a sousand times—"
Seffy started.
"Yas, that's a little bit a lie—mebby a dozen times. And at last Sally's daddy said he'd lick me if I efer said pasture-field ag'in, and I said it ag'in and he licked me! He was a big man—and red-headed yit, like Sally. Now, look a-yere—you ken git that pasture-field wissout money and wissout price—except you' dam' feelings which ain't no other use. Sally won't lick you—if she is bigger—don't be a-skeered. You got tons of feelin's you ain't got no other use for—don't waste 'em—they're good green money, and we'll git efen wiss Sally's daddy for licking me yit—and somesing on the side! Huh?"
At last it was evident that Seffy fully understood, and his father broke into that discordant whistle once more.