'No, sir,' he says, 'I charged 'em up to my own account, an' I've kept 'em to compare with.' "'You hadn't ought to done that,' I says.
"'You think I ought to 'a' put 'em in the fire at once ?' says he.
"'No,' I says, 'that wa'n't what I meant.

Why didn't you mix 'em up with the other money, an' let 'em go when you was payin' out?
Anyways,' I says, 'you charge 'em up to profit an' loss if you're goin' to charge 'em to anythin', an' let me have 'em,' I says.
"'What'll you do with 'em ?' he says to me, kind o' shuttin' his jaws together.
"'I'll take care on 'em,' I says.

'They mayn't be good enough to send down to New York,' I says, 'but they'll go around here all right--jest as good as any other,' I says, 'long 's you keep 'em movin'.'" "David Harum!" cried Polly, who, though not quite comprehending some of the technicalities of detail, was fully alive to the turpitude of the suggestion.

"I hope to gracious he didn't think you was in earnest.

Why, s'pose they was passed around, wouldn't somebody git stuck with 'em in the long run?
You know they would." Mrs.Bixbee occasionally surprised her brother with unexpected penetration, but she seldom got much recognition of it.
"I see by the paper," he remarked, "that the' was a man died in Pheladelphy one day last week," which piece of barefaced irrelevancy elicited no notice from Mrs.Bixbee.
"What more did he say ?" she demanded.
"Wa'al," responded Mr.Harum with a laugh, "he said that he didn't see why I should be a loser by his mistakes, an' that as fur as the bills was concerned they belonged to him, an' with that," said the narrator, "Mister Man gits 'em out of the draw an' jest marches into the back room an' puts the dum things int' the fire." "He done jest right," declared Aunt Polly, "an' you know it, don't ye now ?" "Wa'al," said David, "f'm his standpoint--f'm his standpoint, I guess he did, an'," rubbing his chin with two fingers of his left hand, "it's a putty dum good standpoint too.