You take it and I'll fetch another from the
kitchen. No, I won't, I'll sit on the bench. . . . Hum . . . has
your pa got any money left in that bank of his?"
Miss Hunniwell was, naturally, surprised at the question.
"Why, I hope so," she said. "Did you think he hadn't?"
"W-e-e-ll, I didn't know. That dress of yours, and that new
bonnet, must have used up consider'ble, to say nothin' of that
woodchuck you've got 'round your neck. 'Tis a woodchuck, ain't
it?" he added, solemnly.
"Woodchuck! Well, I like that! If you knew what a silver fox
costs and how long I had to coax before I got this one you would be
more careful in your language," she declared, with a toss of her
head.
Jed sighed. "That's the trouble with me," he observed. "I never
know enough to pick out the right things--or folks--to be careful
with. If I set out to be real toady and humble to what I think is
a peacock it generally turns out to be a Shanghai rooster. And the
same when it's t'other way about. It's a great gift to be able to
tell the real--er--what is it?--gold foxes from the woodchucks in
this life. I ain't got it and that's one of the two hundred
thousand reasons why I ain't rich."
He began to hum one of his doleful melodies. Maud laughed.
"Mercy, what a long sermon!" she exclaimed. "No wonder you sing a
hymn after it.
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