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"I call that punkin out of season," said Grandpa, recklessly. "Strikes me so." "I was talkin' about fruits. I wasn't talkin' about punkins," said Grandma, with derisive conclusiveness. "Wall," said Grandpa, very much aroused, "if you call them tarnal white beans the fruits of God, I don't!" "Don't you consider that God made beans, pa?" "No, I don't!"
Yes." Martha nodded. "If you struck Marietta's head anywhere," she observed, "it would sound the same way. She's got about as much brains as a punkin lantern." "Yes ah yes, but I fear we should gain little by doing that. We shouldn't get at our 'spirit' that way. But perhaps we may find a way. There are obstacles, but there were obstacles above and about that tomb also. Dear me, yes.
Cinch, solemnly, "do you mean to tell me that this young woman can talk me into believing that I aint got bow-legs?" Bob hesitated. He looked at Mr. Cinch long and seriously. Mr. Cinch took up his walking-stick and slowly lifted himself upon his feet. "Look at them legs, Bob. You can shove a prize punkin through 'em without touching. Can this young woman make me believe them legs is straight?
He had washed all the dishes and had repeated the ditty fifteen times, and was for the sixteenth time tunefully inquiring: Can she make a punkin pie, charming Billy? when he opened the door to throw out the dishwater, and narrowly escaped landing it full upon the fur-coated form of his foreman. Canned.
"That ain't no kind o' way t' cheer an invalid." "It's th' truth." "Well, it don't cheer me more, so let's have a lie for a change." Mrs. Trapes snorted and fell to adding and subtracting busily. "Say, Ann," said he after awhile, "if you got any more o' that punkin pie I could do some right now. I'm hungry." "It ain't eatin' time yet." "But Gee! ain't I a invalid?" "Sure!
"Aw, go off and lay down!" advised Charming Billy, in a tone of deep disgust. He was about to pursue still farther his inquiry into the housewifely qualifications of the mysterious "young thing," and he hated interruptions. "Can she make a punkin pie, Billy boy, Billy boy? Can she make a punkin pie, charming Billy?" The door opened timidly and closed again, but he did not see who entered.
"'Now, says Butsy, 'I'm born 'n' raised in Mount Clinton, Ohio. I sees the race meet there frequent 'n' she's a peach. You can have a hoss lay down 'n' go to sleep on the track if you don't want him to win 'n' then tell the judges he's got spring fever. Everything goes except murder. We'll take that black stud of mine 'n' Peewee's bay geldin' 'n' hit this punkin circuit.
But, says she, I do wish with all my heart you had a come last night, for we had a most a special supper punkin pies and dough-nuts, and apple sarce, and a roast goose stuffed with indian puddin, and a pig's harslet stewed in molasses and onions, and I don't know what all, and the fore part of to-day folks called to finish.
So Flora went to see what Mama Joy wanted, and Billy hurried somewhat guiltily out to find what was the matter with the gray horse, and practical affairs once more took control. After that, Billy considered himself an engaged young man. He went back to his ditty and inquired frequently: "Can she make a punkin pie, Billy boy, Billy Boy?"
"I'm in no mood to be funny, you you county-fair prize punkin! I've been worried half to death. Where've you been so long, 'way into the night, long past eleven o'clock?" "Didn't you find my note on the pin-cushion? That informed you where I've been."
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