"I should think as much," sez I coldly; "a deacon, and most dead with rheumatiz, to say nothin' of the grandchildren, why," sez I, "one pigeon wing, or one goin' down through the middle, or all hands round, would crumple you right up and be the death of you."
"Well, I told you explicitly that I didn't lay out to dance, nor didn't ask you to."
Sez I coldly, "If you did it would be a outlay of politeness that would be throwed away. Dance!" sez I, "when I can't git up or set down without groanin', and my principles like iron."
"Well, well, who said they wuzn't? I told you we wouldn't dance this evenin', but," sez he impressively, "we can dress up fancy, or I can, and swing out for once and be fashionable and gay."
"I would like to know where you can git your things to swing out in, and what character you would represent and what dress you would go in."
"Well," sez he, crossin' his legs and lookin' real contented and happy, "I thought I would go as a child."
"As a child!" sez I, astounded at his idee.
"Yes," sez he, "as a babe. I have planned it all out; I could slip over to the store, this summer store they have got here to accommodate the boarders, and buy twenty yards or so of sheetin', you could use it afterwards for sheets, you know, and you could pin it onto me and tie it round the waist with a pale-blue sash. I could buy a couple of yards of blue cambric and you could tear it into, and tie it round my waist with a big bow, and there I would be a babe."
"What would you do with your whiskers?" sez I coldly. "And your wrinkles and your gray bald head?"
"By Jimminy!" sez he, "I forgot them."
