Now, the sucking-pigs with which we had been regaled every day
for three weeks at the tavern, were called roasters; and not
understanding the familiar phrases of the country, I thought she
had a sucking-pig to sell.
"Is it a good one?"
"I guess 'tis."
"What do you ask for it?"
"Two Yorkers."
"That is very cheap, if it is any weight. I don't like them under
ten or twelve pounds."
"Ten or twelve pounds! Why, woman, what do you mean? Would you
expect a rooster to be bigger nor a turkey?"
We stared at each other. There was evidently some misconception
on my part.
"Bring the roaster up; and if I like it, I will buy it, though
I must confess that I am not very fond of roast pig."
"Do you call this a pig?" said my she-merchant, drawing a fine
game-cock from under her cloak.
I laughed heartily at my mistake, as I paid her down the money for
the bonny bird. This little matter settled, I thought she would take
her departure; but that rooster proved the dearest fowl to me that
ever was bought.
"Do you keep backy and snuff here?" says she, sideling close up to me.
"We make no use of those articles."
"How! Not use backy and snuff? That's oncommon."
She paused, then added in a mysterious, confidential tone -
"I want to ask you how your tea-caddy stands?"
"It stands in the cupboard," said I, wondering what all this might
mean.
"I know that; but have you any tea to spare?"
I now began to suspect what sort of a customer the stranger was.
"Oh, you want to borrow some? I have none to spare."
"You don't say so. Well now, that's stingy. I never asked anything
of you before. I am poor, and you are rich; besides, I'm troubled so
with the headache, and nothing does me any good but a cup of strong
tea."
"The money I have just given you will buy a quarter of a pound of
the best."
"I guess that isn't mine. The fowl belonged to my neighbour. She's
sick; and I promised to sell it for her to buy some physic. Money!"
she added, in a coaxing tone, "Where should I get money? Lord bless
you! people in this country have no money; and those who come out
with piles of it, soon lose it. But Emily S - - told me that you are
tarnation rich, and draw your money from the old country. So I guess
you can well afford to lend a neighbour a spoonful of tea."
"Neighbour! Where do you live, and what is your name?"
"My name is Betty Fye - old Betty Fye; I live in the log shanty over
the creek, at the back of your'n. The farm belongs to my eldest son.
I'm a widow with twelve sons; and 'tis - - hard to scratch along."
"Do you swear?"
"Swear!
