What shall I do?"
"Yes."
"YES! What in time are you sayin' yes for?"
"Hum? Eh? Oh, excuse me, Sam; I didn't mean yes, I mean no."
"Gracious king!"
"Well--er--er--," desperately, "you told me to say yes or no, so I--"
"See here, Jed Winslow, HAVE you heard what I've been sayin'?"
"Why, no, Sam; honest I ain't. I've run across an idea about
makin' a different kind of mill--one like a gull, you know, that'll
flap its wings up and down when the wind blows--and--er--I'm afraid
my head is solid full of that and nothin' else. There generally
ain't more'n room for one idea in my head," he added, apologetically.
"Sometimes that one gets kind of cramped."
The captain snorted in disgust. Jed looked repentant and distressed.
"I'm awful sorry, Sam," he declared. "But if it's about that house
of mine--rent or anything, you just do whatever Mrs. Armstrong says."
"Whatever SHE says? Haven't you got anything to say?"
"No, no-o, I don't know's I have. You see, I've settled that she
and Babbie are to have the house for as long as they want it, so
it's only fair to let them settle the rest, seems to me. Whatever
Mrs. Armstrong wants to pay'll be all right. You just leave it to
her."
Captain Sam rose to his feet.
"I've a dum good mind to," he declared "'Twould serve you right if
she paid you ten cents a year.
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