Cullom house, an' that Billy P.
(folks used to call him Billy P. 'cause his father's name was William
an' his was William Parker), an' that Billy P. 'd jest 's like 's not be
president. I've changed my mind some on the subject of presidents since
I was a boy."

Here Mr. Harum turned on his stool, put his right hand into his
sack-coat pocket, extracted therefrom part of a paper of "Maple Dew,"
and replenished his left cheek with an ample wad of "fine-cut." John
took advantage of the break to head off what he had reason to fear might
turn into a lengthy digression from the matter in hand by saying, "I beg
pardon, but how does it happen that Mrs. Cullom is in such
circumstances? Has the family all died out?"

"Wa'al," said David, "they're most on 'em dead, all on 'em, in fact,
except the widdo's son Charley, but as fur 's the family 's concerned,
it more 'n _died_ out--it _gin_ out! 'D ye ever hear of Jim Wheton's
calf? Wa'al, Jim brought three or four veals into town one spring to
sell. Dick Larrabee used to peddle meat them days. Dick looked 'em over
an' says, 'Look here, Jim,' he says, 'I guess you got a "deakin" in that
lot,' he says. 'I dunno what you mean,' says Jim. 'Yes, ye do, goll darn
ye!' says Dick, 'yes, ye do. You didn't never kill that calf, an' you
know it. That calf died, that's what that calf done. Come, now, own
up,' he says. 'Wa'al,' says Jim, 'I didn't _kill_ it, an' it didn't
_die_ nuther--it jest kind o' _gin out_.'"

John joined in the laugh with which the narrator rewarded his own
effort, and David went on: "Yes, sir, they jest petered out. Old Billy,
Billy P.'s father, inheritid all the prop'ty--never done a stroke of
work in his life. He had a collidge education, went to Europe, an' all
that', an' before he was fifty year old he hardly ever come near the old
place after he was growed up. The land was all farmed out on shares, an'
his farmers mostly bamboozled him the hull time. He got consid'able
income, of course, but as things went along and they found out how slack
he was they kept bitin' off bigger chunks all the time, an' sometimes he
didn't git even the core. But all the time when he wanted money--an' he
wanted it putty often I tell ye--the easiest way was to stick on a
morgidge; an' after a spell it got so 't he'd have to give a morgidge to
pay the int'rist on the other morgidges."

"But," said John, "was there nothing to the estate but land?"

"Oh, yes," said David, "old Billy's fat