"People don't dress for dinner in Homeville, as a rule, then," John
said, smiling.
"No," said Mr. Harum, "when they dress fer breakfust that does 'em fer
all three meals. I've wore them things two three times when I've ben
down to the city, but I never had 'em on but once up here."
"No?" said John.
"No," said David, "I put 'em on _once_ to show to Polly how city folks
dressed--he, he, he, he!--an' when I come into the room she set forwud
on her chair an' stared at me over her specs. 'What on airth!' she says.
"'I bought these clo'es,' I says, 'to wear when bein' ent'tained by the
fust fam'lies. How do I look?' I says.
"'Turn 'round,' she says. 'You look f'm behind,' she says, 'like a
red-headed snappin' bug, an' in front,' she says, as I turned agin,
'like a reg'lar slinkum. I'll bet,' she says, 'that you hain't throwed
away less 'n twenty dollars on that foolishniss.' Polly's a very
conserv'tive person," remarked her brother, "and don't never imagine a
vain thing, as the Bible says, not when she _knows_ it, an' I thought it
wa'n't wuth while to argue the point with her."
John laughed and said, "Do you recall that memorable interview between
the governors of the two Carolinas?"
"Nothin' in the historical lit'riture of our great an' glorious
country," replied Mr. Harum reverently, "sticks closter to my mind--like
a burr to a cow's tail," he added, by way of illustration. "Thank you,
jest a mouthful."
"How about the dinner?" John asked after a little interlude. "Was it
pleasant?"
"Fust rate," declared David. "The young folks was out somewhere else,
all but one o' Price's girls. The' was twelve at the table all told. I
was int'duced to all of 'em in the parlor, an' putty soon in come one of
the fellers an' said somethin' to Mis' Price that meant dinner was
ready, an' the girl come up to me an' took holt of my arm. 'You're goin'
to take me out,' she says, an' we formed a procession an' marched out to
the dinin' room. 'You're to sit by mammer,' she says, showin' me, an'
there was my name on a card, sure enough. Wa'al, sir, that table was a
show! I couldn't begin to describe it to ye. The' was a hull flower
garden in the middle, an' a worked tablecloth; four five glasses of all
colors an' sizes at ev'ry plate, an' a nosegay, an' five six diff'rent
forks an' a lot o' knives, though fer that matter," remarked the
speaker, "the' wa'n't but one knife in the lot that amounted to
anythin', the rest on 'em wouldn't hold nothin'; an' the' was three four
sort of chiney slates with what they call--the--you 'n me----"
"Menu," suggested John.
"I guess that's it," said David, "but that wa'n't the way it was spelt.
Wa'al, I set down an' tucked my napkin into my neck, an' though I
noticed none o' the rest on 'em seemed to care, I allowed that 't
wa'n't _my_ shirt, an' mebbe Price might want to wear it agin 'fore 't
was washed."
John put his handkerchief over his face and coughed violently. David
looked at him sharply. "Subject to them spells?" he asked.
"Sometimes," said John when he recovered his voice, and then, with as
clear an expression of innocence as he could command, but somewhat
irrelevantly, asked, "How did you get on with Mrs. Price?"
"Oh," said David, "nicer 'n a cotton hat. She appeared to be a quiet
sort of woman that might 'a' lived anywhere, but she was dressed to
kill--an' so was the rest on 'em, fer that matter," he remarked with a
laugh. "I tried to tell Polly about 'em afterwuds, an'--he, he, he!--she
shut me up mighty quick, an' I thought myself at the time, thinks I,
it's a good thing it's warm weather, I says to myself. Oh, yes, Mis'
Price made me feel quite to home, but I didn't talk much the fust part
of dinner, an' I s'pose she was more or less took up with havin' so many
folks at table; but fin'ly she says to me, 'Mr. Price was so annoyed
about your breakfust, Mr. Harum.'
"'Was he?' I says. 'I was afraid you'd be the one that 'd be vexed at
me.'
"'Vexed with you? I don't understand,' she says.
"''Bout the napkin I sp'iled,' I says. 'Mebbe not actially sp'iled,' I
says, 'but it'll have to go into the wash 'fore it c'n be used agin.'
She kind o' smiled, an' says, 'Really, Mr. Harum, I don't know what you
are talkin' about.'
"'Hain't nobody told ye?' I says. 'Well, if they hain't they will, an' I
may 's well make a clean breast on't. I'm awful sorry,' I says, 'but
this mornin' when I come to the egg I didn't see no way to eat it 'cept
to peel it, an' fust I knew it kind of exploded and daubed ev'rythin'
all over creation. Yes'm,' I says, 'it went _off_, 's ye might say, like
old Elder Maybee's powder,' I guess," said David, "that I must 'a' ben
talkin' ruther louder 'n I thought, fer I looked up an' noticed that
putty much ev'ry one on 'em was lookin' our way, an' kind o' laughin',
an' Price in pertic'ler was grinnin' straight at me.
"'What's that,' he says, 'about Elder Maybee's powder?'
"'Oh, nuthin' much,' I says, 'jest a little supprise party the elder had
up to his house.'
"'Tell us about it,' says Price. 'Oh, yes, do tell us about it,' says
Mis' Price.
"'Wa'al,' I says, 'the' ain't much to it in the way of a story, but
seein' dinner must be most through,' I says, 'I'll tell ye all the' was
of it. The elder had a small farm 'bout two miles out of the village,' I
says, 'an' he was great on raisin' chickins an' turkeys. He was a slow,
putterin' kind of an ole foozle, but on the hull a putty decent citizen.
Wa'al,' I says, 'one year when the poultry was comin' along, a family o'
skunks moved onto the premises an' done so well that putty soon, as the
elder said, it seemed to him that it was comin' to be a ch'ice between
the chickin bus'nis an' the skunk bus'nis, an' though he said he'd heard
the' was money in it, if it was done on a big enough scale, he hadn't
ben edicated to it, he said, and didn't take to it _any_ ways. So,' I
says, 'he scratched 'round an' got a lot o' traps an' set 'em, an' the
very next mornin' he went out an' found he'd ketched an ole
he-one--president of the comp'ny. So he went to git his gun to shoot
the critter, an' found he hadn't got no powder. The boys had used it all
up on woodchucks, an' the' wa'n't nothin' fer it but to git some more
down to the village, an', as he had some more things to git, he hitched
up 'long in the forenoon an' drove down.' At this," said David, "one of
the ladies, wife to the judge, name o' Pomfort, spoke up an' says, 'Did
he leave that poor creature to suffer all that time? Couldn't it have
been put out of it's misery some other way?'
"'Wa'al marm,' I says, 'I never happened to know but one feller that set
out to kill one o' them things with a club, an' _he_ put in most o'
_his_ time fer a week or two up in the woods _hatin'_ himself,' I says.
'He didn't mingle in gen'ral soci'ty, an' in fact,' I says, 'he had the
hull road to himself, as ye might say, fer a putty consid'able spell.'"
John threw back his head and laughed. "Did she say any more?" he asked.
"No," said David with a chuckle. "All the men set up a great laugh, an'
she colored up in a kind of huff at fust, an' then she begun to laugh
too, an' then one o' the waiter fellers put somethin' down in front of
me an' I went eatin' agin. But putty soon Price, he says, 'Come,' he
says, 'Harum, ain't you goin' on? How about that powder?'
"'Wa'al,' I says, 'mebbe we had ought to put that critter out of his
misery. The elder went down an' bought a pound o' powder an' had it done
up in a brown paper bundle, an' put it with his other stuff in the
bottom of his dem'crat wagin; but it come on to rain some while he was
ridin' back, an' the stuff got more or less wet, an' so when he got home
he spread it out in a dishpan an' put it under the kitchen stove to dry,
an' thinkin' that it wa'n't dryin' fast enough, I s'pose, made out to
assist Nature, as the sayin' is, by stirrin' on't up with the kitchin
poker. Wa'al,' I says, 'I don't jest know how it happened, an' the elder
cert'inly didn't, fer after they'd got him untangled f'm under what was
left of the woodshed an' the kitchin stove, an' tied him up in cotton
battin', an' set his leg, an' put out the house, an' a few things like
that, bom-by he come round a little, an' the fust thing he says was,
"Wa'al, wa'al, wa'al!" "What is it, pa?" says Mis' Maybee, bendin' down
over him. "That peowder," he says, in almost no voice, "that peowder! I
was jest stirrin' on't a little, an' it went _o-f-f_, it went _o-f-f_,"
he says, "_seemin'ly--in--a--minute_!" an' that,' I says to Mis' Price,
'was what that egg done.'
"'We'll have to forgive you that egg,' she says, laughin' like
ev'rything, 'for Elder Maybee's sake'; an' in fact," said David, "they
all laughed except one feller. He was an Englishman--I fergit his name.
When I got through he looked kind o' puzzled an' says" (Mr. Harum
imitated his style as well as he could), "'But ra'ally, Mr. Harum, you
kneow that's the way powdah always geoes off, don't you kneow,' an'
then," said David, "they laughed harder 'n ever, an' the Englishman got
redder 'n a beet."
"What did you say?" asked John.
"Nuthin'," said David. "They was all laughin' so't I couldn't git in a
word, an' then the waiter brought me another plateful of somethin'. Scat
my ----!" he exclaimed, "I thought that dinner 'd go on till kingdom
come. An' wine! Wa'al! I begun to feel somethin' like the old feller did
that swallered a full tumbler of white whisky, thinkin' it was water.
The old feller was temp'rence, an' the boys put up a job on him one hot
day at gen'ral trainin'. Somebody ast him afterwuds how it made him
feel, an' he said he felt as if he was sittin' straddle the meetin'
house, an' ev'ry shingle was a Jew's-harp. So I kep' mum fer a while.
But jest before we fin'ly got through, an' I hadn't said nothin' fer a
spell, Mis' Price turned to me an' says, 'Did you have a pleasant drive
this afternoon?'
"'Yes'm,' I says, 'I seen the hull show, putty much. I guess poor folks
must be 't a premium 'round here. I reckon,' I says, 'that if they'd
club together, the folks your husband p'inted out to me to-day could
_almost_ satisfy the requirements of the 'Merican Soci'ty fer For'n
Missions.' Mis' Price laughed, an' looked over at her husband. 'Yes,'
says Price, 'I told Mr. Harum about some of the people we saw this
afternoon, an' I must say he didn't appear to be as much impressed as I
thought he would. How's that, Harum?' he says to me.
"'Wa'al,' says I, 'I was thinkin' 't I'd like to bet you two dollars to
a last year's bird's nest,' I says, 'that if all them fellers we seen
this afternoon, that air over fifty, c'd be got together, an' some one
was suddinly to holler "LOW BRIDGE!" that nineteen out o' twenty 'd
_duck their heads_.'"
"And then?" queried John.
"Wa'al," said David, "all on 'em laughed some, but Price--he jest lay
back an' roared, and I found out afterwuds," added David, "that ev'ry
man at the table, except the Englis'man, know'd what 'low bridge' meant
from actial experience. Wa'al, scat my ----!" he exclaimed, as he looked
at his watch, "it ain't hardly wuth while undressin'," and started for
the door. As he was halfway through it, he turned and said, "Say, I
s'pose _you'd_ 'a' known what to do with that egg," but he did not wait
for a reply.