He's big an' cordy of his age an' a purty likely boy they tell me.

He'd 'a' been all right at the county house until he was old enough to earn his livin', but you was too proud for that--wasn't ye?
I don't mind pride unless it keeps a man from payin' his honest debts.

You ought to have better sense." "An' you ought to keep yer breath to cool yer porridge," said Uncle Peabody.
Mr.Grimshaw opened the door and stood for a moment looking at us and added in a milder tone: "You've got one o' the best farms in this town an' if ye work hard an' use common sense ye ought to be out o' debt in five years--mebbe less." He closed the door and went away.
Neither of us moved or spoke as we listened to his footsteps on the gravel path that went down to the road and to the sound of his buggy as he drove away.

Then Uncle Peabody broke the silence by saying: "He's the dam'dest--" He stopped, set the half-splintered stick aside, closed his jackknife and went to the water-pail to cool his emotions with a drink.
Aunt Deel took up the subject where he had dropped it, as if no half-expressed sentiment would satisfy her, saying: "-- old skinflint that ever lived in this world, ayes! I ain't goin' to hold down my opinion o' that man no longer, ayes! I can't.

It's too powerful--ayes!" Having recovered my composure I repeated that I should like to give up school and stay at home and work.
Aunt Deel interrupted me by saying: "I have an idee that Sile Wright will help us--ayes! He's comin' home an' you better go down an' see him--ayes! Hadn't ye ?" "Bart an' I'll go down to-morrer," said Uncle Peabody.
I remember well our silent going to bed that night and how I lay thinking and praying that I might grow fast and soon be able to take the test of manhood--that of standing in a half-bushel measure and shouldering two bushels of corn.