He's got a tongue that's buttered
on both sides and runs on ball bearings. If I should see him he'd work
on my sympathies till I'd lend him the last two-cent piece in my baby's
bank."
So, as there wa'n't no way out of it, I drove down to Asaph's that
afternoon. He lived off on a side road by the shore, in a little,
run-down shanty that was as no account as he was. When I moored my horse
to the "heavenly-wood" tree by what was left of the fence, I would have
bet my sou'wester that I caught a glimpse of Brother Blueworthy, peeking
round the corner of the house. But when I turned that corner there was
nobody in sight, although the bu'sted wash-bench, with a cranberry crate
propping up its lame end, was shaking a little, as if some one had set
on it recent.
I knocked on the door, but nobody answered. After knocking three or
four times, I tried kicking, and the second kick raised, from somewheres
inside, a groan that was as lonesome a sound as ever I heard. No human
noise in my experience come within a mile of it for dead, downright
misery--unless, maybe, it's Cap'n Jonadab trying to sing in meeting
Sundays.
"Who's that?" wails Ase from 'tother side of the door. "Did anybody
knock?"
"Knock!" says I. "I all but kicked your everlasting derelict out of
water. It's me, Wingate--one of the selectmen. Tumble up, there! I want
to talk to you."
Blueworthy didn't exactly tumble, so's to speak, but the door opened,
and he comes shuffling and groaning into sight.
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