Cape Cod Stories by Joseph C. Lincoln
TWO PAIRS OF
THE COUNT AND
THE SOUTH SHORE
THE DOG STAR
THE MARE AND THE
THE MARK ON THE
THE LOVE OF
THE MEANNESS OF
HIS NATIVE HEATH
TWO PAIRS OF SHOES
I don't exactly know why Cap'n Jonadab and me went to the post-
office that night; we wa'n't expecting any mail, that's sartin. I
guess likely we done it for the reason the feller that tumbled
overboard went to the bottom—'twas the handiest place TO go.
Anyway we was there, and I was propping up the stove with my feet
and holding down a chair with the rest of me, when Jonadab heaves
alongside flying distress signals. He had an envelope in his
starboard mitten, and, coming to anchor with a flop in the next
chair, sets shifting the thing from one hand to the other as if it
'twas red hot.
I watched this performance for a spell, waiting for him to say
something, but he didn't, so I hailed, kind of sarcastic, and says:
"What you doing—playing solitaire? Which hand's ahead?"
He kind of woke up then, and passes the envelope over to me.
"Barzilla," he says, "what in time do you s'pose that is?"
'Twas a queer looking envelope, more'n the average length fore and
aft, but kind of scant in the beam. There was a puddle of red
sealing wax on the back of it with a "D" in the middle, and up in one
corner was a kind of picture thing in colors, with some printing in a
foreign language underneath it. I b'lieve 'twas what they call a
"coat-of-arms," but it looked more like a patchwork comforter than it
did like any coat ever _I_ see. The envelope was addressed to
"Captain Jonadab Wixon, Orham, Mass."
I took my turn at twisting the thing around, and then I hands it
back to Jonadab.
"I pass," I says. "Where'd you get it?"
"'Twas in my box," says he. "Must have come in to-night's mail."
I didn't know the mail was sorted, but when he says that I got up
and went over and unlocked my box, just to show that I hadn't forgot
how, and I swan to man if there wa'n't another envelope, just like
Jonadab's, except that 'twas addressed to "Barzilla Wingate."
"Humph!" says I, coming back to the stove; "you ain't the only one
that's heard from the Prince of Wales. Look here!"
He was the most surprised man, but one, on the Cape: I was the one.
We couldn't make head nor tail of the business, and set there
comparing the envelopes, and wondering who on earth had sent 'em.
Pretty soon "Ily" Tucker heads over towards our moorings, and says
"What's troubling the ancient mariners?" he says.
"Barzilla and me's got a couple of letters," says Cap'n Jonadab;
"and we was wondering who they was from."
Tucker leaned away down—he's always suffering from a rush of
funniness to the face—and he whispers, awful solemn: "For heaven's
sake, whatever you do, don't open 'em. You might find out." Then he
threw off his main-hatch and "haw-hawed" like a loon.
To tell you the truth, we hadn't thought of opening 'em—not yet—
so that was kind of one on us, as you might say. But Jonadab ain't
so slow but he can catch up with a hearse if the horses stop to
drink, and he comes back quick.
"Ily," he says, looking troubled, "you ought to sew reef-points on
your mouth. 'Tain't safe to open the whole of it on a windy night
like this. First thing you know you'll carry away the top of your
Well, we felt consider'ble better after that—having held our own
on the tack, so to speak—and we walked out of the post-office and up
to my room in the Travellers' Rest, where we could be alone. Then we
opened up the envelopes, both at the same time. Inside of each of 'em
was another envelope, slick and smooth as a mack'rel's back, and
inside of THAT was a letter, printed, but looking like the kind of
writing that used to be in the copybook at school. It said that
Ebenezer Dillaway begged the honor of our presence at the marriage of
his daughter, Belle, to Peter Theodosius Brown, at Dillamead House,
Cashmere-on-the-Hudson, February three, nineteen hundred and so forth.
We were surprised, of course, and pleased in one way, but in
another we wa'n't real tickled to death. You see, 'twas a good while
sence Jonadab and me had been to a wedding, and we know there'd be
mostly young folks there and a good many big-bugs, we presumed likely,
and 'twas going to cost consider'ble to get rigged—not to mention the
price of passage, and one thing a' 'nother. But Ebenezer had took the
trouble to write us, and so we felt 'twas our duty not to disappoint
him, and especially Peter, who had done so much for us, managing the
Old Home House.
The Old Home House was our summer hotel at Wellmouth Port. How me
and Jonadab come to be in the summer boarding trade is another story
and it's too long to tell now. We never would have been in it,
anyway, I cal'late, if it hadn't been for Peter. He made a howling
success of our first season and likewise helped himself along by
getting engaged to the star boarder, rich old Dillaway's
daughter—Ebenezer Dillaway, of the Consolidated Cash Stores.
Well, we see 'twas our duty to go, so we went. I had a new Sunday
cutaway and light pants to go with it, so I figgered that I was
pretty well found, but Cap'n Jonadab had to pry himself loose from
considerable money, and every cent hurt as if 'twas nailed on. Then
he had chilblains that winter, and all the way over in the Fall River
boat he was fuming about them chilblains, and adding up on a piece of
paper how much cash he'd spent.
We struck Cashmere-on-the-Hudson about three o'clock on the
afternoon of the day of the wedding. 'Twas a little country kind of
a town, smaller by a good deal than Orham, and so we cal'lated that
perhaps after all, the affair wouldn't be so everlasting tony. But
when we hove in sight of Dillamead—Ebenezer's place—we shortened
sail and pretty nigh drew out of the race. 'Twas up on a high bank
over the river, and the house itself was bigger than four Old Homes
spliced together. It had a fair-sized township around it in the shape
of land, with a high stone wall for trimming on the edges. There was
trees, and places for flower-beds in summer, and the land knows what.
We see right off that this was the real Cashmere-on-the-Hudson; the
village folks were stranded on the flats—old Dillaway filled the
whole ship channel.
"Well," I says to Jonadab, "it looks to me as if we was getting out
of soundings. What do you say to coming about and making a quick run
for Orham again?"
But he wouldn't hear of it. "S'pose I've spent all that money on
duds for nothing?" he says. "No, sir, by thunder! I ain't scared of
Peter Brown, nor her that's going to be his wife; and I ain't scared
of Ebenezer neither; no matter if he does live in the Manufacturers'
Building, with two or three thousand fathom of front fence," he says.
Some years ago Jonadab got reckless and went on a cut-rate
excursion to the World's Fair out in Chicago, and ever sence then
he's been comparing things with the "Manufacturers' Building" or the
"Palace of Agriculture" or "Streets of Cairo," or some other
"All right," says I. "Darn the torpedoes! Keep her as she is!
You can fire when ready, Gridley!"
So we sot sail for what we jedged was Ebenezer's front-gate, and
just as we made it, a man comes whistling round the bend in the path,
and I'm blessed if 'twa'n't Peter T. Brown. He was rigged to kill, as
usual, only more so.
"Hello, Peter!" I says. "Here we be."
If ever a feller was surprised, Brown was that feller. He looked
like he'd struck a rock where there was deep water on the chart.
"Well, I'll be ——" he begun, and then stopped. "What in the
——" he commenced again, and again his breath died out. Fin'lly he
says: "Is this you, or had I better quit and try another pipe?"
We told him 'twas us, and it seemed to me that he wa'n't nigh so
tickled as he'd ought to have been. When he found we'd come to the
wedding, 'count of Ebenezer sending us word, he didn't say nothing
for a minute or so.
"Of course, we HAD to come," says Jonadab. "We felt 'twouldn't be
right to disapp'int Mr. Dillaway."
Peter kind of twisted his mouth. "That's so," he says. "It'll be
worth more'n a box of diamonds to him. Do him more good than joining
a 'don't worry club.' Well, come on up to the house and ease his
So we done it, and Ebenezer acted even more surprised than Peter.
I can't tell you anything about that house, nor the fixings in it;
it beat me a mile—that house did. We had a room somewheres up on
the hurricane deck, with brass bunks and plush carpets and crocheted
curtains and electric lights. I swan there was looking glasses in
every corner—big ones, man's size. I remember Cap'n Jonadab
hollering to me that night when he was getting ready to turn in:
"For the land's sake, Barzilla!" says he, "turn out them lights,
will you? I ain't over'n' above bashful, but them looking glasses
make me feel's if I was undressing along with all hands and the
The house was full of comp'ny, and more kept coming all the time.
Swells! don't talk! We felt 'bout as much at home as a cow in a
dory, but we was there 'cause Ebenezer had asked us to be there, so
we kept on the course and didn't signal for help. Travelling through
the rooms down stairs where the folks was, was a good deal like
dodging icebergs up on the Banks, but one or two noticed us enough to
dip the colors, and one was real sociable. He was a kind of
slow-spoken city-feller, dressed as if his clothes was poured over him
hot and then left to cool. His last name had a splice in the middle
of it—'twas Catesby-Stuart. Everybody—that is, most
everybody—called him "Phil."
Well, sir, Phil cottoned to Jonadab and me right away. He'd get
us, one on each wing, and go through that house asking questions. He
pumped me and Jonadab dry about how we come to be there, and told us
more yarns than a few 'bout Dillaway, and how rich he was. I remember
he said that he only wished he had the keys to the cellar so he could
show us the money-bins. Said Ebenezer was so just—well, rotten with
money, as you might say, that he kept it in bins down cellar, same as
poor folks kept coal—gold in one bin, silver half-dollars in another,
quarters in another, and so on. When he needed any, he'd say to a
servant: "James, fetch me up a hod of change." This was only one of
the fish yarns he told. They sounded kind of scaly to Jonadab and me,
but if we hinted at such a thing, he'd pull himself together and say:
"Fact, I assure you," in a way to freeze your vitals. He seemed like
such a good feller that we didn't mind his telling a few big ones;
we'd known good fellers afore that liked to lie—gunners and such
like, they were mostly.
Somehow or 'nother Phil got Cap'n Jonadab talking "boat," and when
Jonadab talks "boat" there ain't no stopping him. He's the smartest
feller in a cat-boat that ever handled a tiller, and he's won more
races than any man on the Cape, I cal'late. Phil asked him and me if
we'd ever sailed on an ice-boat, and, when we said we hadn't he asks
if we won't take a sail with him on the river next morning. We didn't
want to put him to so much trouble on our account, but he said: "Not
at all. Pleasure'll be all mine, I assure you." Well, 'twas his for
a spell—but never mind that now.
He introduced us to quite a lot of the comp'ny—men mostly. He'd
see a school of 'em in a corner, or under a palm tree or somewheres,
and steer us over in that direction and make us known to all hands.
Then he begin to show us off, so to speak, get Jonadab telling 'bout
the boats he'd sailed, or something like it— and them fellers would
laugh and holler, but Phil's face wouldn't shake out a reef: he looked
solemn as a fun'ral all the time. Jonadab and me begun to think we was
making a great hit. Well, we was, but not the way we thought. I
remember one of the gang gets Phil to one side after a talk like this
and whispers to him, laughing like fun. Phil says to him: "My dear
boy, I've been to thousands of these things—" waving his flipper
scornful around the premises—" and upon honor they've all been alike.
Now that I've discovered something positively original, let me enjoy
myself. The entertainment by the Heavenly Twins is only begun."
I didn't know what he meant then; I do now.
The marrying was done about eight o'clock and done with all the
trimmings. All hands manned the yards in the best parlor, and Peter
and Belle was hitched. Then they went away in a swell turnout—not
like the derelict hacks we'd seen stranded by the Cashmere depot—and
Jonadab pretty nigh took the driver's larboard ear off with a shoe
Phil gave him to heave after 'em.
After the wedding the folks was sitting under the palms and bushes
that was growing in tubs all over the house, and the stewards— there
was enough of 'em to man a four-master—was carting 'round punch and
frozen victuals. Everybody was togged up till Jonadab and me, in our
new cutaways, felt like a couple of moulting blackbirds at a blue-jay
camp-meeting. Ebenezer was so busy, flying 'round like a pullet with
its head off, that he'd hardly spoke to us sence we landed, but Phil
scarcely ever left us, so we wa'n't lonesome. Pretty soon he comes
back from a beat into the next room, and he says:
"There's a lady here that's just dying to know you gentlemen. Her
name's Granby. Tell her all about the Cape; she'll like it. And, by
the way, my dear feller," he whispers to Jonadab "if you want to
please her—er—mightily, congratulate her upon her boy's success in
the laundry business. You understand," he says, winking; "only son
and self-made man, don't you know."
Mrs. Granby was roosting all by herself on a sofy in the parlor.
She was fleshy, but terrible stiff and proud, and when she moved the
diamonds on her shook till her head and neck looked like one of them
"set pieces" at the Fourth of July fireworks. She was deef, too, and
used an ear-trumpet pretty nigh as big as a steamer's ventilator.
Maybe she was "dying to know us," but she didn't have a fit trying
to show it. Me and Jonadab felt we'd ought to be sociable, and so we
set, one on each side of her on the sofy, and bellered: "How d'ye
do?" and "Fine day, ain't it?" into that ear-trumpet. She didn't say
much, but she'd couple on the trumpet and turn to whichever one of us
had hailed, heeling over to that side as if her ballast had shifted.
She acted to me kind of uneasy, but everybody that come into that
parlor—and they kept piling in all the time— looked more'n middling
joyful. They kept pretty quiet, too, so that every yell we let out
echoed, as you might say, all 'round. I begun to git shaky at the
knees, as if I was preaching to a big congregation.
After a spell, Jonadab not being able to think of anything more to
say, and remembering Phil's orders, leans over and whoops into the
"I'm real glad your son done so well with his laundry," he says.
Well, sir, Phil had give us to understand that them congratulations
would make a hit, and they done it. The women 'round the room turned
red and some of 'em covered their mouths with their handkerchiefs.
The men looked glad and set up and took notice. Ebenezer wa'n't in
the room—which was a mercy—but your old mess- mate, Catesby-Stuart,
looked solemn as ever and never turned a hair.
But as for old lady Granby—whew! She got redder'n she was afore,
which was a miracle, pretty nigh. She couldn't speak for a minute—
just cackled like a hen. Then she busts out with: "How dare you!"
and flounces out of that room like a hurricane. And it was still as
could be for a minute, and then two or three of the girls begun to
squeal and giggle behind their handkerchiefs.
Jonadab and me went away, too. We didn't flounce any to speak of.
I guess a "sneak" would come nearer to telling how we quit. I see
the cap'n heading for the stairs and I fell into his wake. Nobody
said good-night, and we didn't wait to give 'em a chance.
'Course we knew we'd put our foot in it somewheres, but we didn't
see just how. Even then we wa'n't really onto Phil's game. You see,
when a green city chap comes to the Old Home House—and the land knows
there's freaks enough do come—we always try to make things pleasant
for him, and the last thing we'd think of was making him a show afore
folks. So we couldn't b'lieve even now 'twas done a-purpose. But we
was suspicious, a little.
"Barzilla," says Jonadab, getting ready to turn in, "'tain't
possible that that feller with the sprained last name is having fun
with us, is it?"
"Jonadab," says I, "I've been wondering that myself."
And we wondered for an hour, and finally decided to wait a while
and say nothing till we could ask Ebenezer. And the next morning one
of the stewards comes up to our room with some coffee and grub, and
says that Mr. Catesby-Stuart requested the pleasure of our comp'ny on
a afore-breakfast ice-boat sail, and would meet us at the pier in half
an hour. They didn't have breakfast at Ebenezer's till pretty close
to dinner time, eleven o'clock, so we had time enough for quite a
Phil and the ice-boat met us on time. I s'pose it 'twas style,
but, if I hadn't known I'd have swore he'd run short of duds and had
dressed up in the bed-clothes. I felt of his coat when he wa'n't
noticing, and if it wa'n't made out of a blanket then I never slept
under one. And it made me think of my granddad to see what he had on
his head—a reg'lar nightcap, tassel and all. Phil said he was sorry
we turned in so early the night afore. Said he'd planned to entertain
us all the evening. We didn't hurrah much at this—being suspicious,
as I said—and he changed the subject to ice-boats.
That ice-boat was a bird. I cal'lated to know a boat when I
sighted one, but a flat-iron on skates was something bran-new. I
didn't think much of it, and I could see that Jonadab didn't neither.
But in about three shakes of a lamb's tail I was ready to take it
all back and say I never said it. I done enough praying in the next
half hour to square up for every Friday night meeting I'd missed sence
I was a boy. Phil got sail onto her, and we moved out kind of slow.
"Now, then," says he, "we'll take a little jaunt up the river.
'Course this isn't like one of your Cape Cod cats, but still—"
And then I dug my finger nails into the deck and commenced: "Now I
lay me." Talk about going! 'Twas "F-s-s-s-t!" and we was a mile
from home. "Bu-z-z-z!" and we was just getting ready to climb a
bank; but 'fore she nosed the shore Phil would put the helm over and
we'd whirl round like a windmill, with me and Jonadab biting the
planking, and hanging on for dear life, and my heart, that had been up
in my mouth knocking the soles of my boots off. And Cap'n
Catesby-Stuart would grin, and drawl: "'Course, this ain't like a
Orham cat-boat, but she does fairly well—er—fairly. Now, for
instance, how does this strike you?"
It struck us—I don't think any got away. I expected every minute
to land in the hereafter, and it got so that the prospect looked kind
of inviting, if only to get somewheres where 'twas warm. That
February wind went in at the top of my stiff hat and whizzed out
through the legs of my thin Sunday pants till I felt for all the
world like the ventilating pipe on an ice-chest. I could see why
Phil was wearing the bed-clothes; what I was suffering for just then
was a feather mattress on each side of me.
Well, me and Jonadab was "it" for quite a spell. Phil had all the
fun, and I guess he enjoyed it. If he'd stopped right then, when the
fishing was good, I cal'late he'd have fetched port with a full hold;
but no, he had to rub it in, so to speak, and that's where he slopped
over. You know how 'tis when you're eating mince-pie—it's the "one
more slice" that fetches the nightmare. Phil stopped to get that
He kept whizzing up and down that river till Jonadab and me kind of
got over our variousness. We could manage to get along without
spreading out like porous plasters, and could set up for a minute or
so on a stretch. And twa'n't necessary for us to hold a special
religious service every time the flat-iron come about. Altogether,
we was in that condition where the doctor might have held out some
And, in spite of the cold, we was noticing how Phil was sailing
that three-cornered sneak-box—noticing and criticising; at least, I
was, and Cap'n Jonadab, being, as I've said, the best skipper of small
craft from Provincetown to Cohasset Narrows, must have had some ideas
on the subject. Your old chum, Catesby-Stuart, thought he was
mast-high so fur's sailing was concerned, anybody could see that, but
he had something to larn. He wasn't beginning to get out all there
was in that ice-boat. And just then along comes another feller in the
same kind of hooker and gives us a hail. There was two other chaps on
the boat with him.
"Hello, Phil!" he yells, rounding his flat-iron into the wind
abreast of ours and bobbing his night-cap. "I hoped you might be
out. Are you game for a race?"
"Archie," answers our skipper, solemn as a setting hen, "permit me
to introduce to you Cap'n Jonadab Wixon and Admiral Barzilla Wingate,
of Orham, on the Cape."
I wasn't expecting to fly an admiral's pennant quite so quick, but
I managed to shake out through my teeth—they was chattering like a
box of dice—that I was glad to know the feller. Jonadab, he rattled
loose something similar.
"The Cap'n and the Admiral," says Phil, "having sailed the raging
main for lo! these many years, are now favoring me with their advice
concerning the navigation of ice-yachts. Archie, if you're willing to
enter against such a handicap of brains and barnacles, I'll race you
on a beat up to the point yonder, then on the ten mile run afore the
wind to the buoy opposite the Club, and back to the cove by
Dillaway's. And we'll make it a case of wine. Is it a go?"
Archie, he laughed and said it was, and, all at once, the race was
Now, Phil had lied when he said we was "favoring" him with advice,
'cause we hadn't said a word; but that beat up to the point wa'n't
half over afore Jonadab and me was dying to tell him a few things. He
handled that boat like a lobster. Archie gained on every tack and
come about for the run a full minute afore us.
And on that run afore the wind 'twas worse than ever. The way Phil
see-sawed that piece of pie back and forth over the river was a sin
and shame. He could have slacked off his mainsail and headed dead
for the buoy, but no, he jiggled around like an old woman crossing
the road ahead of a funeral.
Cap'n Jonadab was on edge. Racing was where he lived, as you might
say, and he fidgeted like he was setting on a pin-cushion. By and by
he snaps out:
"Keep her off! Keep her off afore the wind! Can't you see where
Phil looked at him as if he was a graven image, and all the answer
he made was; "Be calm, Barnacles, be calm!"
But pretty soon I couldn't stand it no longer, and I busts out
with: "Keep her off, Mr. What's-your name! For the Lord's sake,
keep her off! He'll beat the life out of you!"
And all the good that done was for me to get a stare that was
colder than the wind, if such a thing's possible.
But Jonadab got fidgetyer every minute, and when we come out into
the broadest part of the river, within a little ways of the buoy, he
couldn't stand it no longer.
"You're spilling half the wind!" he yells. "Pint' her for the buoy
or else you'll be licked to death! Jibe her so's she gits it full.
Jibe her, you lubber! Don't you know how? Here! let me show you!"
And the next thing I knew he fetched a hop like a frog, shoved Phil
out of the way, grabbed the tiller, and jammed it over.
She jibed—oh, yes, she jibed! If anybody says she didn't you send
'em to me. I give you my word that that flat-iron jibed twice— once
for practice, I jedge, and then for business. She commenced by
twisting and squirming like an eel. I jest had sense enough to clamp
my mittens onto the little brass rail by the stern and hold on; then
she jibed the second time. She stood up on two legs, the boom come
over with a slat that pretty nigh took the mast with it, and the whole
shebang whirled around as if it had forgot something. I have a foggy
kind of remembrance of locking my mitten clamps fast onto that rail
while the rest of me streamed out in the air like a burgee. Next
thing I knew we was scooting back towards Dillaway's, with the sail
catching every ounce that was blowing. Jonadab was braced across the
tiller, and there, behind us, was the Honorable Philip Catesby-Stuart,
flat on his back, with his blanket legs looking like a pair of
compasses, and skimming in whirligigs over the slick ice towards
Albany. HE hadn't had nothing to hold onto, you understand. Well, if
I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have b'lieved that a human being could
spin so long or travel so fast on his back. His legs made a kind of
smoky circle in the air over him, and he'd got such a start I thought
he'd NEVER STOP a-going. He come to a place where some snow had melted
in the sun and there was a pond, as you might say, on the ice, and he
went through that, heaving spray like one of them circular lawn
sprinklers the summer folks have. He'd have been as pretty as a
fountain, if we'd had time to stop and look at him.
"For the land sakes, heave to!" I yelled, soon's I could get my
breath. "You've spilled the skipper!"
"Skipper be durned!" howls Jonadab, squeezing the tiller and
keeping on the course; "We'll come back for him by and by. It's our
business to win this race."
And, by ginger! we DID win it. The way Jonadab coaxed that cocked
hat on runners over the ice was pretty—yes, sir, pretty! He nipped
her close enough to the wind'ard, and he took advantage of every
single chance. He always COULD sail; I'll say that for him. We walked
up on Archie like he'd set down to rest, and passed him afore he was
within a half mile of home. We run up abreast of Dillaway's, putting
on all the fancy frills of a liner coming into port, and there was
Ebenezer and a whole crowd of wedding company down by the landing.
"Gosh!" says Jonadab, tugging at his whiskers: "'Twas Cape Cod
against New York that time, and you can't beat the Cape when it comes
to getting over water, not even if the water's froze. Hey, Barzilla?"
Ebenezer came hopping over the ice towards us. He looked some
"Where's Phil?" he says.
Now, I'd clean forgot Phil and I guess Jonadab had, by the way he
"Phil?" says he. "Phil? Oh, yes! We left him up the road a
piece. Maybe we'd better go after him now."
But old Dillaway had something to say.
"Cap'n," he says, looking round to make sure none of the comp'ny
was follering him out to the ice-boat. "I've wanted to speak to you
afore, but I haven't had the chance. You mustn't b'lieve too much of
what Mr. Catesby-Stuart says, nor you mustn't always do just what he
suggests. You see," he says, "he's a dreadful practical joker."
"Yes," says Jonadab, beginning to look sick. I didn't say nothing,
but I guess I looked the same way.
"Yes," said Ebenezer, kind of uneasy like; "Now, in that matter of
Mrs. Granby. I s'pose Phil put you up to asking her about her son's
laundry. Yes? Well, I thought so. You see, the fact is, her boy is
a broker down in Wall Street, and he's been caught making some of what
they call 'wash sales' of stock. It's against the rules of the
Exchange to do that, and the papers have been full of the row. You
can see," says Dillaway, "how the laundry question kind of stirred the
old lady up. But, Lord! it must have been funny," and he commenced to
I looked at Jonadab, and he looked at me. I thought of Marm
Granby, and her being "dying to know us," and I thought of the lies
about the "hod of change" and all the rest, and I give you my word
_I_ didn't grin, not enough to show my wisdom teeth, anyhow. A crack
in the ice an inch wide would have held me, with room to spare; I know
"Hum!" grunts Jonadab, kind of dry and bitter, as if he'd been
taking wormwood tea; "_I_ see. He's been having a good time making
durn fools out of us."
"Well," says Ebenezer, "not exactly that, p'raps, but—"