To begin
with, why, Godfrey--Godfrey Cradlebow--that's Lute's father, teacher;
he's college bred, I suppose! He had a rich uncle thar', that took a
shine to him, and kind o' 'dopted him and eddicated him, but Godfrey, he
took a shine to a poor girl thar', dreadfully handsome, she was, but yet
they was both of 'em young, and it didn't suit the old uncle, so he left
him to shift for himself. And Godfrey, he tried one thing and another,
and never held long to nothin', I guess, and finally he drifted down this
way, and here he stuck.
"He's got a good head, Godfrey has, but he wasn't never extry fond o'
work, I reckon, and he's growed dreadful rheumatiky lame, and he has his
sprees, occasionally.
"Liddy, that's his wife, teacher, she was full good enough for him when
ye come to the p'int. Oh, she's a smart wife, and she's had a hard row,
so many children and nothin' to do with, as ye might say. Why, they've
had thirteen children, ain't they, ma?
"Le' me see--four on 'em dead, and three on 'em--no! four on 'em married,
and three on 'em--How is't, ma?"
Grandma then took up the tangled thread of the old Captain's discourse,
with calm disdain, and proceeded to disclose an appalling array of
statistics, not only in regard to the Cradlebow family, but including
generations of men hitherto unknown and remote.
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