Parson.—"I am not asking Flop's age, but your own."
Lenny.-"'Deed, sir, I have heard say as how Flop and I were pups together. That is, I—I—"
For the Parson is laughing, and so is Mrs. Fairfield; and the haymakers who have stood still to listen, are laughing too. And poor Lenny has quite lost his head, and looks as if he would like to cry.
Parson, patting the curly locks, encouragingly.—"Never mind; it is not so badly answered after all. And how old is Flop?"
Lenny.—"Why, he must be fifteen year and more."
Parson.—"How old, then, are you?"
Lenny, looking up with a beam of intelligence.—"Fifteen year and more!"
Widow sighs and nods her head.
"That's what we call putting two and two together," said the Parson. "Or, in other words," and here be raised his eyes majestically toward the haymakers—"in other words—thanks to his love for his book—simple as he stands here, Lenny Fairfield has shown himself capable of INDUCTIVE RATIOCINATION."
At those words, delivered ore rotundo, the haymakers ceased laughing. For even in lay matters they held the Parson to be an oracle, and words so long must have a great deal in them.