"I ha'n't got nothin'!" said Fessenden's, when it came to him; "I'm real
sorry I but I'll give my hat!"--earnest as could be.
When the hat came to Mr. Williams, he quietly put in his hand and took
out his glasses.
"Here, I've got something for you; I desire to contribute," said
Gentleman Bill.
But Joe was shy of his brother.
"Oh, we don't let the missionary give anything!" he said. "Here's the
hat what you're gunter wear;--give it to him, Cresh!"
Bill disdained the beggar's, contribution; but, in his anxiety to seize
Joe, he suffered his sister to slip up behind him and clap the wet,
ragged straw wreck on his head.
"Oh, Bill! Oh, Bill!" screamed the girls with merriment, in which mother
and grandmother joined, while even their father indulged in a silent,
inward laugh.
"Good!" said Fessenden's; "he may have it!"
Bill, watching his opportunity, made a dash at the pretending Deacon
Todd. That nimble and quick-witted dwarf escaped as fast as his awkward
attire would permit. The bed seemed to be the only place of refuge, and
he dodged under it.
"Come out!" shouted Bill, furious.
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