Part 31 (1/2)

”'Tis fire! 'Tis _raal_ fire!”

”O--d-e-a-r!”

”Take him some _wa_-ter!”

”I say, _mister_--mister,” exclaimed Mr. Longbow, who had become really frightened, and who could sit still no longer, when he saw the man positively burning up--”Did you really mean to set that _tow_ on fire?

Don't it _burn_, mister? Don't you want some help? I say, sir, mis-_ter_!”

The man answered by blowing a stream of sparks out of his mouth straight at the Squire, who started back in terror, and overset Mrs. Longbow, who uttered an unearthly scream.

The fire flickered out at last, and order was restored.

This was followed by the ”ribbon factory,” and the man pulled a pile of them out of his mouth, of all sizes and colors, and scattered them around his feet in the most reckless manner.

”Don't tromp on 'em,” said Aunt Sonora.

”He ought to be _keer_ful on 'em,” said another.

”If Whistle & Sharp only sold sich ribbons,” another.

”And to think,” continued Mrs. Bird, ”they come right out on him, too.”

”He keeps 'em in his _butes_,” roared Turtle.

”They don't come out of his _butes_ at all,” said Aunt Sonora; ”they're all in his _mouth_.”

”He didn't put 'em _in_ his butes,” said Mrs. Swipes; ”how could they come out on 'em?”

”Put 'em in 'fore he come,” said Turtle.

”I say, mister,” inquired Squire Longbow, who wished to settle the disputed point for the benefit of all, ”did you put them 'are ribbons inter yer butes 'fore you come?”

The man c.o.c.ked his eye, and kept pulling away.

The Squire looked indignant.

”Ask him if they are raal ribbons,” said Aunt Sonora.

”I say, mister,” stammered the Squire, again rising, ”are them 'are raal ribbons?”

The man still pulled.

”Won't answer no questions!” exclaimed the Squire, and he sat down. The ribbon factory at last ran out.

The only other exercise of importance was cooking eggs in a hat. The performer had borrowed the Squire's hat in the most polite way possible, saying, ”he would confer a great favor upon him for the loan of it for a few moments; it would so much aid him in his feats. It was just _the_ hat he wanted--it was sometimes difficult for him to find just _the_ hat--but the Squire's hat filled his eye to a dot.”

Now the Squire's hat was the most remarkable hat in all Puddleford. It was a broad-brimmed affair, ”raal beaver,” he said, which he'd worn mor'n twenty years. He bought it down on the ”Susquehannas,” and had watched it with sacred care ever since he had owned it. He wore it on Sunday, Fourth of July, on town-meeting days, and on all special occasions. He kept it the rest of the time in a closet in the ”_cham_-ber,” covered with a piece of ”ile-cloth,” which was about as ancient as the hat. There was one grease spot on it, and only one, and there was not a man, woman, or child in the settlement who did not know how it ”come on,” for the Squire had detailed the circ.u.mstances that led to the catastrophe, a hundred times.

The hat was set upon the floor, and the performer brought out a basket of eggs, and bowing gracefully, holding one in his hand at the same time, said he would cook a dozen in that hat, pointing to the Squire's hat significantly.

”S-i-r!” exclaimed the Squire.