"
Scattergood went back to his hardware store and sat down in his
reinforced armchair on the piazza. As he sat there young Jim Hands drove
up with his girl, alighted, and went into the ice-cream parlor for
refreshment. Scattergood studied the rig. It lacked something to give it
the final touch of style dear to the country youth.
Scattergood got up, and ambled into his store, returning with a
resplendent buggy whip--one with a white silk bow tied above its handle.
This he placed in the socket on the dashboard. Then he resumed his
chair. Presently Jim emerged with his girl and helped her into the rig.
He noticed the whip, took it out of its place, and examined it; swished
it through the air to try its excellence.
"Mighty nice gad," said Scattergood.
"Where in tunket did it come from?" asked Jim.
"I stuck it there. Looked to me like a rig sich as your'n needed a good
whip to set it off. I jest put it there to see how it looked."
Jim glanced at his girl, scratched the back of his suntanned neck, and
felt in his pocket.
"Calc'late I _did_ need a whip," he said. "How much is sich whips
fetchin'?"
"I kin give you that one a might lower 'n usual.
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