"
"Then it was the Pet that Yuba Bill saw dancin' from the coach?"
"Yes."
"And that yer artist from New York painted as an 'Imp and Satire'?"
"Yes."
"Then that's how Polly didn't show up in them tablows at Skinnerstown?
It was Withholder who kinder smelt a rat, eh? and found out it was only
a theayter gal all along that did the dancin'?"
"Well, you see," said Jack, with affected hesitation, "thet's another
yarn. I don't know mebbe ez I oughter tell it. Et ain't got anything
to do with this advertisement o' the Pet, and might be rough on old man
Withholder! Ye mustn't ask me, boys."
But there was that in his eye, and above all in this lazy
procrastination of the true humorist when he is approaching his climax,
which rendered the crowd clamorous and unappeasable. They WOULD have the
story!
Seeing which, Jack leaned back against a rock with great gravity, put
his hands in his pockets, looked discontentedly at the ground, and
began: "You see, boys, old Parson Withholder had heard all these yarns
about Polly and thet trick-goat, and he kinder reckoned that she might
do for some one of his tablows.
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