What you done was nervy, and what I might have looked for with the bringing-up I've given you.

I shan't mention that you hung back." He shot a glance out of the corners of his bleached blue eyes in Custer's direction.

"How many minutes do you suppose you was in getting out of the cart and over the fence?
Not more than five, I'd say, and all that time I was sitting there shaking with laughter--just shaking with inward laughter; I asked you not to leave me alone! Well, I always was a joker but I consider that my best joke!" Custer maintained a stony silence, yet he would have given anything could he have accepted those pleasant fictions his father was seeking to establish in the very habiliments of truth.
"I hoped you'd know how to take a joke, son!" said the little lamplighter in a hurt tone.
"Were you joking, sure enough ?" asked Custer doubtingly.
"Is it likely I could have been in earnest ?" demanded Shrimplin, hitching up his chin with an air of disdain.

"What's my record right here in Mount Hope?
Was it Andy Gilmore or Colonel Harbison that found old man McBride when he was murdered in his store ?" And the little lamplighter's tone grew more and more indignant as he proceeded.

"Maybe you think it was your disgustin' and dirty Uncle Joe?
_I_ seem to remember it was Bill Shrimplin, or do I just dream I was there--but I ain't been called a liar, not by no living man--" and he twirled an end of his drooping flaxen mustache between thumb and forefinger.