Scattergood did not discuss this problem with Mandy, his wife, as it was his custom to discuss business problems. He did not mention the young Lewises because the first rule of Mandy's life was "Mind your own business," and it irritated her beyond measure to see Scattergood poking his finger into every dish that offered. He did talk the matter over with Deacon Pettybone, but got little enlightenment for his pains. "Don't seem natteral," Scattergood said, "f'r young folks to git to quarrelin' and bickerin' ontil life hain't endurable no longer. 'Tain't natteral a-tall. Somethin' must be all-fired wrong somewheres." "It's human nature to quarrel," said the deacon, gloomily. "Nothin' onusual about it." "Human nature," said Scattergood, "gits blamed f'r a heap of things that ought to be laid at the door of human cussedness." "Same thing," said the deacon. "If you're human you're cussed. Used to be so in the Garden of Eden, and it'll keep on bein' so till Gabriel blows his final trump." "'Tain't no more natteral to bicker than 'tis to have dispepsy. Quarrelin' and hectorin' hain't nothin' but a kind of dispepsy that attacks families instid of stummicks. In both cases it means somethin' is wrong." "Can't cure a unhappy family with a dose of calomel," said the deacon, acidly. "Hain't so sure. Bet that identical remedy' u'd fix up three out of ten. But somethin' else is wrong with them young Lewises. A dose of somethin' 'u'd cure 'em, if only a feller could figger out what 'twas." "Might try soothin' syrup," said the deacon, with an ironic grin. "Sounds like it ought to git results.... Soothin' syrup--eh? Have to tell the boys that one. Soothin' syrup. Perty good f'r an old man. Don't call to mind makin' no joke like that f'r twenty year." "Do it often, Deacon," said Scattergood, gravely. "You won't have to take so much sody followin' meals to sweeten you up.... G'-by, Deacon.... Soothin' syrup. Um!... I swanny...." He looked across the square and saw that Pliny Pickett was delighting an audience with apochryphal reminiscences, doubtless of a gallant and spicy character. It is characteristic of Scattergood that he waited until Pliny had reached his climax, shot it off, and was doubled up with laughter at his own narration, before he lifted up his voice and summoned the stage driver. "Hey, Pliny! Step over here a minute." "Comin'," said Pliny, with alacrity. Then in an aside to his audience: "See that? Can't let an evenin' pass without a conference with me. Sets a heap of store by my judgment." "Sets more store by your laigs," said Old Man Bogle. "They kin run errants, anyhow." Pliny hastened across the square, and in careful imitation of Scattergood said, "Evening Scattergood." "Evening Pliny. Flow of language good as usual to-night? Didn't meet with no trouble sayin' what you had to say?" "Not a mite, Scattergood." "Come through Bailey to-day?" "Calculated to." "Any news?" "Nary."