"Oh, of _course_! Hah? But what _yit_?"
I regret to say that Seffy did not understand.
"Seffy," he said impressively, "you haf' tol' me what you goin' to wear.
It ain't much. The weather's yit pooty col' nights. But I ken stand it
if you ken--God knows about Sally! Now, what you goin' to _do_--that's
the conuntrum I ast you!"
Still it was not clear to Seffy.
"Why--what I'm a-going to do, hah? Why--whatever occurs."
"Gosh-a'mighty! And nefer say a word or do a sing to help the
occurrences along? Goshens! What a setting-up! Why--say--Seffy, what you
set up _for_?"
Seffy did not exactly know. He had never hoped to practise the thing--in
that sublimely militant phase.
"What do _you_ think?"
"Well, Sef--plow straight to her heart. I wisht I had your chance. I'd
show you a other-guess kind a setting-up--yassir! Make your mouth warter
and your head swim, begoshens! Why, that Sally's just like a young
stubble-field; got to be worked constant, and plowed deep, and manured
heafy, and mebby drained wiss blind ditches, and crops changed constant,
and kep' a-going thataway--constant--constant--so's the weeds can't git
in her.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196