But Mrs. Yellett was not the sort of antagonist to be left gaping on the road, awed to silence by the action of a rocking-chair, no matter how brilliant. “I reckon I can thrash my own children when it’s needed, without gettin’ in help from the East, or hereabouts either, for that matter. If other folks would only take out their public-spirited reformin’ tendencies on their own famblies, there’d be a heap less lynchin’ likely to happen round the country in the course of the next ten years.” Old Sally let the home-thrust pass. “Who ever hearn tell of a good teacher that wasn’t a fine thrasher in the bargain?” She swung the chair about with a pivotal motion, as if she were addressing an assemblage instead of a single listener, and then, bethinking herself of a clinching illustration, she called aloud to her daughter to bear witness. “Eudory! Eu-do-ry! You-do-ry!” “Ye-’s ma’am,” drawled the daughter, coming most unwillingly from the open-faced room opposite, where she had been inciting all four of the suitors to battle. “What was it they called that teacher down to Caspar that larruped the hide off’n the boys?” “A fine dis-a-ply-narian, maw.” “Yes, that’s it—a dis-a-_ply_-narian. What kin a lettle green gourd like her know ’bout dis-apply-in?” “Your remarks shore remind me of a sayin’ that ‘the discomfort of havin’ to swallow other folks’ dust causes a heap of anxiety over their reckless driving.’” Mrs. Yellett flicked her riding-boot with her whip. Her voice dropped a couple of tones, her accent became one of honeyed sweetness. “Your consumin’ anxiety regardin’ my gov’ment and my children shore reminds me of a narrative appertainin’ to two dawgs. Them dawgs was neighbors, livin’ in adj’inin’ yards separated by a fence, and one day one of them got a good meaty bone and settled hisself down to the enj’yment thereof. And his intimate friend and neighbor on the other side of the fence, who had no bone to engage his faculties, he began to fret hisself ’bout the business of his friend. S’pose he was to choke hisself over that bone. S’pose the meat disagreed with him. And he begins to bark warnin’s, but the dawg with the bone he keeps right on. But the other dawg he dashes hisself again the fence and he scratches with his claws. He whines pitiful, he’s that anxious about his friend. But the dawg with the bone he went right on till he gnawed it down to the last morsel, and, goin’ to the hole in the fence whar his friend had kep’ that anxious vigil, he says: ‘Friend, the only thing that consoled me while having to endure the anguish of eatin’ that bone was the thought of your watchful sympathy!’ Which bein’ the case, I’d thank you to tell me whar I can find my gov’ment.” “Ai-yi!” said old Sally. “I ain’t seein’ no bone this deal. Just a lettle green gourd ’s all I see with my strongest specs.”