Abner, who was drunk as a king, instantly declared that "By the
everlastin Jehu" he'd break the head o' the "fuss dum Nimshi" that
asked for another drink, which brought the potations of the company to
a sudden check. Presently Meshech Little observed:
"Come long fellersh, lesh go t' the store. Whosh fraid? I ain't."
There was a chorus of thick-tongued protestations of equal valor, and
the crowd reeled out after Meshech. Abner was left alone with the
widow.
"I'm reel beholden to ye Abner Rathbun, fer stannin up fer me," said
she warmly, "an Seliny Bingham ain't one tew ferget a favor nuther."
"I'd a smashed the snout o' the fuss one on em ez assed fer more. I'd
a knocked his lights outer him, I don' keer who twuz," declared Abner,
his valor still further inflamed by the gratitude which sparkled from
the widow's fine eyes.
"Lemme mix ye a leetle rum 'n sugar, Abner. It'll dew ye good," said
the widow. "I hope ye didn' take none o' that to yerself what I said
tew the res' on em. I'm sure I don' grudge ye a drop ye've ever hed,
caze I know ye be a nice stiddy man, an I feels safer like wen ye be
raoun. Thar naow, jess try that an see ef it's mixed right."
Abner did try that, and more subsequently and sweet smiles and honeyed
words therewith, the upshot of all which was the tacit conclusion that
evening of a treaty of alliance, the tacitly understood conditions
being that Abner should stand by the widow and see she was not put
upon, in return for which the widow would see that he was not left
thirsty, and if this understanding was sealed with a kiss snatched by
one of the contracting parties as the other leaned too far over the
bar with the fourth tumbler of rum and sugar, why it was all the more
likely to be faithfully observed.
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