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Updated: July 18, 2025
It tastes better than any other potato, and while the butter melts through it you wonder that people do not fire whole fields and bake the crop in hot earth before digging it, to store for winter. Zene had frequently assured Robert Day that an egg served this way was better still.
"We must keep together," said the head of the caravan. "Yes, marm," responded Zene earnestly. "Well, now, you may drive ahead and keep the carriage in sight till it's dinner-time and we come to a good place to halt." Bobaday said he believed he would get in with Zene and try the wagon awhile. Springs and cushions had become tiresome.
So he sunk into his seat feeling much less important, and the wonders proceeded though Aunt Corinne felt she should always regret turning her back on the Dame Trot book and coming in there to have Zene called her lame pap, while Robert wondered gloomily if any stigma did attach to movers' children. He had supposed them a class to be envied.
"Zene has taken good care of you, has he?" "He didn't have to take care of us!" remonstrated Robert. "And last night when there was a fair, I thought he stuck around more than he was needed: There was the meanest boy that stuck up his hose at movers' children." Aunt Corinne's brother Tip laughed under his breath. "You'll not be movers' children much longer.
All its details had to be gathered by a quick eye. The leaders flew over the smooth thoroughfare, holding up their heads like horse princes; and Bobaday knew what a bustle Reynoldsburg would be in during the few minutes that the stage halted. After viewing this sumptuous pageant the little caravan moved briskly on toward Columbus. Zene kept some distance ahead, yet always in sight.
"Big Ant Black," continued Zene, "she lived in a hill by a stump, but Little Ant Red she lived on a leaf up a tree." "I thought they always crept into houses," urged Bobaday. "This one didn't. She lived on a leaf up a tree. And these two ants run against each other in everything.
It flickered on the blue spectacles and gave Grandma Padgett a piercing expression while she examined her culprits. "Where have you been, while Zene and I hunted up and down in such distress?" "We's going right back to the tavern soon's he could get us there," Robert hastened to explain. "It's that funny fellow, J. D., Grandma. But he thought we better go roundabout, so they wouldn't catch us."
"I s'ze to myself," continued Zene, ignoring this absurd supposition, "'now, if they puts the horses in their stable, they means to keep the wagon too, and make way with me so no one will ever know it. But, I s'ze, 'if they tries to lead the horses off somewhere for to hide 'em, then that's all they want, and they'll pretend in the morning to have lost stock themselves."
Yes," acknowledged Zene forbearingly, "they run. Maybe they run toward the house, and maybe they run the other way. I got a-holt of old White's hitch-strap and my boot; then I cantered out and hitched up, and went along the road real lively. It wasn't till towards mornin' that I turned off into the woods and tied up for a nap. Yes, I slept part of the night in the wagon."
"That's how the woman 'peared to me. She was tousled, and looked wild out of her eyes. The man says, says he, 'What do you want? I s'ze, 'Can I git a bite here?" Robert had frequently explained to Zene the utter nonsense of this abbreviation, "I s'ze," but Zene invariably returned to it, perhaps dimly reasoning that he had a right to the dignity of third person when repeating what he had said.
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