_Mrs. C._ [_wishing to buy for her salon in New York a fine old white
pine fan-backed rocking-chair she has discovered upon a farmhouse
veranda_]: Can you tell me if there is a family of the name of Pibuddy
living in this vicinity?
_Peasant_: No, I can’t.
_Mrs. C._: Or Littlefield?
_Peasant_: Never heard of ’em.
_Mrs. C._: Or Smith?
_Peasant_: They’s some Smiths up at Baxter’s Dam Corners. Them who ye
lookin’ fer?
_Mrs. C._: Yes. They are the very ones. I want to take them a cradle
for their baby, as they are relatives of mine. Have you a cradle for
sale?
_Peasant_: No, I ain’t.
_Mrs. C._: Or any watermelons, perhaps?
_Peasant_: Don’t grow none.
_Mrs. C._: I’m _so_ sorry. I haven’t seen these dear old cousins of
mine for _so_ long; and I _did_ want to take them some little thing to
please them. I’d give as high as three or four dollars for a cradle or
a watermelon.
_Peasant_: I don’t see no way to oblige ye.
_Mrs. C._ [_affecting to discover the rocking-chair_]: Oh, I know what
we could do. My chauffeur is very ingenious. I could give you forty
cents for that old chair and he can make a cradle out of it as we go
along.
_Peasant_: That chair’s wuth more’n forty cents. It’s wuth a dollar if
it’s wuth a penny!
_Mrs. C._ [_handing the peasant a dollar_]: Thank you! Please place it
in my car. [_Exit._]