And then....
"Parson," said Scattergood, "your pa and the deacon ought to make up."
"They'll never do it, Mr. Baines."
"Deacon'll have to let your pa come to the weddin'. There'll be makin'
up and reconciliations when there's a grandson, but I can't wait. I'm in
a all-fired hurry. You go to the deacon and tell him your pa sent him
to say that he's ready to bury the hatchet and begs the deacon's pardon
for everythin'--everythin'."
"But it wouldn't be true."
"It's got to be true. Hain't I sayin' it's true? And then you go to your
pa and tell him the deacon wants to make up, and begs _his_ pardon out
and out. Tell both of 'em to be at my store at three o'clock, but don't
tell neither t'other's to be there."
At three o'clock Deacon Pettybone and Elder Hooper came face to face in
Scattergood's place of business.
"Howdy, gents?" said Scattergood. "Lookin' forward to bein' mutual
grandads, I calc'late. Must be quite a feelin' to know you're in line to
be a grandad."
"Huh!" grunted the deacon.
"Wumph!" coughed the elder.
"To think of you old coots dandlin' a baby on your knees--and buyin' it
pep'mint candy and the Lord knows what, and walkin' down the street,
each of you holdin' one of its hands and it walkin' betwixt you.
Pages:
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149