"Can't nobody never have no fun in this house? Bless us! what
'ud we do, if 't wa'n't for Joey, to make us laugh and keep our sperits
up? Jest you stan' back now, Bill!--'d ruther you'd strike me 'n see ye
hit that 'ere boy oncet!"
"He must let my things be, then," said Bill, who couldn't see much sport
in the disrespectful use made of his wearing apparel.--"Here, you!
surrender my property!"
"Laws! you be quiet! You'll git yer cut agin. Only jest look at him now,
he's so blessed cunning!"
For Joe, reassured by his grandmother, had stopped screaming, and gone
to tailoring. He sat cross-legged on one of the unlucky coat-skirts, and
pulled the other up on his lap, for his work. Then he got an imaginary
thread, and, putting his fingers together, screwed up his mouth, and
looked over the spectacles, sharpening his sight,--
"Like an old tailor to his needle's eye."
Then he began to stitch, to the infinite disgust of Bill, who was
sensitive touching his vocation.
"I do declare, father! how you can smile, seeing that child carrying on
in this shape, is beyond my comprehension!"
"Joseph!" said Mr.
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