Pa says
he had the mumps once when he was a boy and it broke him all up."
"Well, never mind the mumps, how about your Pa spreeing it. Try one of
those pickles in the jar there, won't you. I always like to have a boy
enjoy himself when he comes to see me," said the grocery man, winking to a
man who was filling an old fashioned tin box with tobacco out of the pail,
who winked back as much as to say, "if that boy eats a pickle on top of
them mumps we will have a circus, sure."
"You can't play no pickle on me, not when I have the mumps. Ma passed the
pickles to me this morning, and I took one mouthful, and like to had the
lockjaw. But Ma didn't do it on purpose, I guess. She never had the mumps
and didn't know how discouraging a pickle is. Darn if I didn't feel as
though I had been struck in the butt of the ear with a brick. But
about Pa. He has been fuller'n a goose ever since New Year's day. I think
its wrong for women to tempt feeble minded persons with liquor on New
Year's. Now me and my chum, we can take a drink and then let it alone. We
have got brain, and know when we have got enough, but Pa, when he gets to
going don't ever stop until he gets so sick that he can't keep his
stummick inside of hisself. It is getting so they look to me to brace Pa
up every time he gets on a tear, and I guess I fixed him this time so he
will never touch liquor again.
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