You've
seen them, I reckon?"
Dan nodded as he chewed idly at a blade of grass. "I tried to get him to
throw them away yesterday," he said, "and he did go so far as to haul them
out and look them over; but after meditating a half hour, he packed them
away again and declared there was 'a sight of wear left in them still.' He
told me if he ever made up his mind to get rid of them, and peace should
come next day, he'd never forgive himself."
"Well, I warned Bland not to meddle with him," pursued Jack, "but he got
bored and set in to make things lively. 'Look here, Pinetop,' he began,
'will you do me the favour to give me the name of the tailor who made your
blue jeans?' and, bless your life, Pinetop just took the mullein leaf from
his eyes, and sang out 'Maw.' That was what Bland wanted, of course, so,
without waiting for the danger signal, he plunged in again. 'Then if you
don't object I should be glad to have the pattern of them,' he went on, as
smooth as butter. 'I want them to wear when I go home again, you know. Why,
they're just the things to take a lady's eye--they have almost the fit of a
flour-sack--and the ladies are fond of flour, aren't they?' The whole crowd
was waiting, ready to howl at Pinetop's answer, and, sure enough, he raised
himself on his elbow, and drawled out in his sing-song tone: 'I say, Sonny,
ain't yo' Maw done put you into breeches yit?'"
"It serves him right," said Dan sternly, "and that's what I like about
Pinetop, Jack, there's no ruffling him.
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