The young gentlemen took their seats at the table and Mr. Middleton
continued, "Now lay into 't and help yourselves. I ain't used to perlite
strains, and if I should try you'd all larf at me--mebby you want to now.
Tempest say's I'm enough to make a dog larf."
"Who is Tempest? One of your servants?" asked Stanton.
"Christopher Columbus! One of my servants!" answered Mr. Middleton. "How
Tempest would rar to hear that. Why, she's my oldest gal."
"I beg your pardon," said Stanton.
"Not a bit on't," answered Mr. Middleton. "I don't wonder you thought so,
such an oudun name! Her real name is Julia, but I call her Tempest, 'case
that's jist like her. She's a regular thunderstorm of lightning, hail and
iron slugs. You'll see her in Frankfort. Goin' into the law thar, are
you?"
Stanton answered that he thought he should.
"Well," said Mr. Middleton, "I'll give you all my suits, just because you
wouldn't drink and tell a lie to that little gal at home. I despise liars.
Let me catch a body telling me a lie, I tell you--"
Here he lifted up his huge foot which was encased in a cowhide boot,
something smaller than a canal-boat. He gave the table a kick which set
all the spoons, knives and forks to dancing, spilt the milk and upset the
gravy pot.
"Why, Mr. Middleton!" interposed his wife.
"I am sorry, honey," said he, "but I'll be hanged if that ar sling ain't
gettin' the better of the old man."
After supper was over and the effects of the sling had left Mr.
Middleton's head, he inquired further into the intentions of his guests.
On learning that Mr. Raymond would teach, if he could get the chance, Mr.
Middleton said, "I reckon you can teach in Mr. Miller's school. I'll write
to him about you, and I reckon he can make room for you."
It was well for Raymond that Mr. Middleton did not observe his smile of
contempt at the idea of being recommended by such an "old cur," as he
secretly styled him.
At a late hour Mr. Middleton conducted the young men to their room, saying
as they entered it, "This was Dick's room, poor dear boy! For his sake I
wish 'twas better, for it was sometimes cold like in the winter; but he's
warm enough now, I reckon, poor fellow!" So saying, he left the room; but
Stanton noticed upon the old tin candlestick which his host had put upon
the table something which looked very much like tears, so large that he
was sure no one but Mr. Middleton could have wept them.