"No, I won’t, Tildy. Jess’ll not hear it from me, blamed if she will. G’long, Jerry."
Abner was early at the station the next morning, and after he had hitched his horse to a post near the building, he strolled into the waiting-room. Seeing the station agent busily reading _The Live Wire_ he stepped toward the ticket-window and peered through.
"’Mornin’, Sam," he accosted. "How’s the train?"
"Fifteen minutes late," the agent replied as he lowered his paper. "You’re early, Mr. Andrews. You’ll have to wait nearly an hour."
"Oh, I don’t mind that, Sam," and Abner reached down into his pocket as he spoke and brought forth a pipe, tobacco, and knife. "I allus make a bizness of bein’ ahead of time. I s’pose ye often see people runnin’ to catch the train, eh?"
"Indeed I do, and they generally make a lot of trouble for themselves and everybody else."
"That’s jist it. I’ve often told Tildy that if people’d use their brains more an’ their legs less it’d be a darn sight better fer all consarned. What’s the news, Sam?"
"Why, haven’t you seen the paper this morning, Mr. Andrews?" the agent asked in surprise.
"Naw, I don’t go much on dailies; they’ve too many ’vertisement. I take the _Family Herald_ and git a hull library every week fer one dollar a year. Ye kin find most everythin’ ye want in the _Herald_ from raisin’ hogs to teethin’ babies. It’s sartinly great."
"But _The Live Wire_ should interest you this morning, Mr. Andrews. It has a long article on the meeting last night, and about your generous gift toward the Orphan Home."
"Ye don’t tell! Well, I guess I know as much about last night’s meetin’ as the feller who was there waggin’ the pen. That’s the trouble with _The Live Wire_; it tells ye things ye already know."
Although Abner pretended to be completely indifferent about the account of the meeting, in reality he was most anxious to read what the paper had to say about it. But after what he had said about the dailies, it would not do for him to back down now. The agent would have a laugh at his expense. He could buy a copy at the drug-store up the street.
"Keep an eye on my hoss, will ye, Sam? I’ve got to git some corn-salve fer Tildy. She fergot it yesterday, an’ her corns were mighty bad last night."