"
"Come through Bailey to-day?"
"Calculated to."
"Any news?"
"Nary."
"What's become of that What's-his-name baby you was a-tellin' about? The
one that lost his ma and was bein' cared for by neighbors?"
"Nothin' hain't become of him. Calc'late he'll be took to a
institution."
"Um! Likely-lookin' two-year-old, was he? Take note of any blemishes?"
"I hear tell by them that knows as how he was sound in wind and limb."
"Who's keepin' him, Pliny?"
"Mis' Patterson's sort of shuffled him in with her seven. Says she don't
notice no difference to speak of. Claims 'tain't possible f'r eight
childern to be no noisier 'n what seven be."
"Um!... G'-by, Pliny. Ever deal in facts over there to the post office?
Ever have occasion to mention facts?"
"Er--not _reg'lar_ facts, Scattergood. You needn't to worry about my
talkin' too free."
"Seems like a feller that talks as much as you do would _have_ to
mention a fact once in a while. G'-by, Pliny."
It was two or three days later that Postmaster Pratt alluded again to
Martha and Jed Lewis.
"They're gittin' wuss and wuss," he said, with some gratification.
"Last night they was a rumpus you could 'a' heard forty mile.
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