"I reckon you-all know what
a tickler is?"
They nodded.
"What if Mr. Slosson totes a tickler, too?" asked Keppel
insinuatingly. This opened an inviting field for conjecture.
"That won't make no manner of difference. Why? Because it's a
powerful drawback fo' a man to know he's in the wrong, just as
it's a heap in yo' favor to know you're in the right."
"My father's got a tickler; I seen it often," vouchsafed Henry.
"It's a foot long, with a buck horn handle. Gee whiz!--he keeps
it keen; but he never uses it on no humans," said Keppel.
"Of course he don't; he's a high-spirited, right-actin'
gentleman. But what do you reckon he'd feel obliged to do if a
body stole one of you-all?" inquired Yancy.
"Whoop! He'd carve 'em deep!" cried Keppel.
At this moment Mrs. Cavendish appeared, bringing Yancy's
breakfast. In her wake came Connie with the baby, and the three
little brothers who were to be accorded the cherished privilege
of seeing the poor gentleman eat.
"You got a nice little family, ma'am," said Yancy.
"Well, I reckon nobody complains mo' about their children than
me, but I reckon nobody gets mo' comfort out of their children
either. I hope you-all are a-goin' to be able to eat, you ain't
had much nourishment. La, does yo' shoulder pain you like that?
Want I should feed you?"
"I am sorry, ma'am, but I reckon you'll have to," Yancy spoke
regretfully. "I expect I been a passel of bother to you."
"No, you ain't.
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