“Why, Uncle Hardy,” said Toby, “you pull us both down together! The old man’s mighty groggy,” said Toby to me, in a half whisper, and with an arch wink and smile, as he rose up—I happening to be next to him at the moment—“s’pose we help him up, and get him off? The old woman’s in for it, too,” continued he, winking, nodding, and shrugging up his shoulders very significantly.
“Oh no,” said I, “the old woman is perfectly sober, and I never heard of her tasting a drop in all my life.”
“Oh,” said Toby, assuming the gravity of a parson, “loves it mightily, mightily! Monstrous woman for drinking!—at least that’s my opinion. Monstrous fine woman, though! monstrous fine!”
“Oh, daddy, for the Lord’s sake let’s go home; only see what a rain is coming?” said Billy.
“Daddy’ll go presently, my son.”
“Well, here’s your horse, git up and let’s go. Mammy’ll be sure to be sendin’ for us.”
“Don’t mind him,” said Toby, winking to me; “he’s nothing but a boy; I wouldn’t take no notice of what he said. He wants me (winking and smiling) to go home with him; now you listen.”
“Well, come,” said I to Uncle Toby, “get on your horse and go home, a very heavy rain is coming up.”
“I’ll go presently, but you just listen to Bill,” said he to me, winking and smiling.
“Oh, daddy, for the Lord’s sake let’s go home.”