Going out on the veranda, Westerfelt saw Abner
coming up the walk, cracking his wagon-whip at the stunted rose-bushes.
"Hello!" he cried out; "I 'lowed mebby you hadn't left yet. It 'll be
a good half-hour 'fore they all get thar an' settled. The preacher
promised me this mornin' he'd wait on me an' my folks. It takes my
gals sech a' eternity to fix up when they go anywhar."
"Won't you come in?" asked Westerfelt, coldly, seeing that Lithicum did
not seem to be in any hurry to announce the object of his visit.
"Oh no, thanky'," said Lithicum, with a broad grin; "the truth is, I
clean forgot my tobacco. I knowed you wasn't a chawin' man, but yore
uncle is, an' he mought have left a piece of a plug lyin' round. My
old woman tried to git me to use her snuff as a make-shift, but lawsy
me! the blamed powdery truck jest washes down my throat like leaves in
a mill-race. I never could see how women kin set an' rub an' rub the'r
gums with it like they do. I reckon it's jest a sort o' habit."
"I'm sorry," said Westerfelt, "but I don't know where my uncle keeps
his tobacco.
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