wful good
motto," chuckled Jabe, with a new explosion of mirth that stretched his
mouth to an alarming extent. "Oh, there, I can't hold in 'nother minute.
I shall bust if I don' tell somebody! Set down on that nail kag,
Samanthy, 'n' I'll let you hev a leetle slice o' this joke--if you'll
keep it to yourself. You see I know--'bout--whar--to look--for this
here--runaway!"

"You hev n't got him stowed away anywheres, hev you? If you hev, it'll
be the last joke you'll play on Vildy Cummins, I can tell you that much,
Jabe Slocum."

"No, I hain't stowed him away, but I can tell putty nigh whar he's
stowed hisself away, and I'm ready to die a-laffin' to see how it's all
turned out jest as I suspicioned 't would. You see, Samanthy Ann, I
thought 'bout a week ago 't would be well enough to kind o' create a
demand for the young ones so 't they'd hev some kind of a market value,
and so I got Elder Southwick 'n' Aunt Hitty kind o' started on that
tack, 'n' it worked out slick as a whistle, tho' they didn't know I was
usin' of 'em as innercent instruments, and Aunt Hitty don't need much
encouragement to talk; it's a heap easier for her to drizzle 'n it is to
hold up! Well, I've ben surmisin' for a week that the boy meant to run
away, and to-day I was dead sure of it; for he come to me this
afternoon, when I was restin' a spell on account o' the hot sun, and he
was awful low-sperrited, 'n' he asked me every namable kind of a
question you ever hearn tell of, and all so simple-minded that I jest
turned him inside out 'thout his knowin' what I was doin'. Well, when I
found out what he was up to I could 'a' stopped him then 'n' there, tho'
I don' know 's I would anyhow, for I shouldn't like livin' in a 'sylum
any better 'n he doos; but thinks I to myself, thinks I, I'd better let
him run away, jest as he's a plannin',--and why? Cause it'll show what
kind o' stuff he's made of, and that he ain't no beggar layin' roun'
whar he ain't wanted, but a self-respectin' boy that's wuth lookin'
after. And thinks I, Samanthy, 'n' I know the wuth of him a'ready, but
there's them that hain't waked up to it yit, namely, Miss Vildy Trypheny
Cummins; and as Miss Vildy Trypheny Cummins is that kind o' cattle that
can't be drove, but hez to be kind o' coaxed along, mebbe this
runnin'-away bizness 'll be the thing that'll fetch her roun' to our way
o' thinkin'. Now I wouldn't deceive nobody for a farm down East with a
pig on it, but thinks I, there ain't