A few
birds, indeed!--did anybody ever hear tell of sech doin's? 'Warn't them
birds in the air?' I ax, 'an' don't the air belong to Archie the same as
to him?'"
"It's because he's rich an' we're po', that he's got a right to lay
claim to it," muttered William Ming, a weakly obstinate person, to whose
character a glass of cider contributed the only strength.
"You'd better hold yo' tongue, suh," retorted his wife, "it ain't yo'
air anyway, is it?"
"I reckon it's as much mine as it's Mr. Jonathan's," rejoined William,
who, having taken a double portion, had waxed argumentative. "An' what
I reason is that birds as is in the air ain't anybody's except the man's
that can bring 'em down with a gun."
"That's mo' than you could do," replied his wife, "an' be that whether
or no, it's time you were thinkin' about beddin' the grey mule, an' she
ain't in the air, anyhow. If I was you, Abel," she continued in a softer
tone, "I wouldn't let 'em make me so riled about Mr. Jonathan till I'd
looked deep in the matter. It may be that he ain't acquainted with the
custom of the neighbourhood, an' was actin' arter some foolish foreign
laws he was used to.
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