"
"Le' me see," continued Grandpa; "I had eight brothers, teacher, yis,
yis, there was nine boys in all," nodding his head emphatically, and
proceeding to count on his fingers.
Grandma Keeler laid her knife and fork aside, as though she felt that the
occasion was an important one, and that she had a grave duty to perform
in regard to it.
"Thar' was Philemon, he comes first, that makes one, don't it? and there
was Doddridge--
"Sure he comes next, pa?" interposed Grandma; "for now you're namin' of
em, you might as well git 'em right."
"Yis, yis, ma," replied the old man, hastily. "Then there was Winfield
and John, they're all dead now, and Bartholomew, he was first mate in a
sailin' vessel; fine man, Bartholomew was, fine man; he----"
"Wall, thar' now," said Grandma; "you'll never git through namin' on 'em,
pa, if you stop to talk about 'em."
"Yis, yis," continued Grandpa, hopelessly confused, and showing dark
symptoms of smouldering wrath; "there was Bartholomew. That makes a,--le'
me see, Bartholomew,----"
"How many Bartholomews was there?" inquired Grandma, with pitiless
coolness of demeanor.
"Thar', now, ma, ye've put me all out!" cried Grandpa, taking refuge in
loud and desperate reproach; "I was gettin' along first-rate; why
couldn't ye a kept still and let me reckoned 'em through?"
"Yer musn't blame me, pa, 'cause yer can't carry yer own brothers in yer
head.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52