"I feel better, already, Abner," was the reply. "I’m jist holdin’ me sides to keep from splittin’, ye’r story was so funny."
"H’m, I guess if ye saw an’ heard me when I was real funny ye’d be tied up in a knot in no time. If the spirits of me humorous ancestors got busy there’d be somethin’ doin’ worth while. An’ they’re really needed. It ’ud do people a world of good if they could be affected jist fer a day by them wonderful spirits."
"What are ye talkin’ about, anyway, Abner? What could the spirits of ye’r ancestors do?"
"Do? Why, they could cure all kinds of diseases, an make people well an’ strong."
"Fiddlesticks! Ye’r talkin’ nonsense, Abner. How could they do sich things?"
"Sure. Ye see, people don’t laff enough. They go round with faces as long as Miss Julie Tomkins’ tongue an’ that’s some length, skiddy-me-shins if it ain’t. Most of the folks ye meet now-a-days look as if they was about dyin’, or had lost their best friends. They need to be stimulated by a good laff once in a while. It ’ud help their digesters an’ make life more pleasant."
"An’ so ye think ye’r ancestors could make people laff, do ye?" Zeb enquired.
"Sartin! They’ll work through me, an’ I feel ’em gittin’ busy jist now. They’ve given me the power, an’ I’m ready to try it upon anybody. Anythin’ wrong with you, Zeb? Tooth-ache, stummick-ache, heart-ache, boils, or any dang thing ye might mention. I’m a specialist on all."
"Good Lord, no!" Zeb exclaimed. "I know enough of ye’r spirit-movin’ business, Abner. Try it on someone else, but I warn ye to leave me alone unless ye want an ache that all ye’r spirits combined couldn’t cure."
"There now, don’t git cranky an’ sassy, Zeb. It was only fer ye’r welfare that I offered me services. But if ye won’t accept ’em then I’ll have to try it on others."
"An’ de ye think people would come to be treated by you?"
"Why not? They want to be cured, don’t they?"
"I s’pose they do, most of ’em at any rate. But they prefer to go to someone who knows what he’s talkin’ about."
"An’ de ye think I don’t know? De ye imagine I’m jist spoutin’ to hear meself?"
"I wouldn’t like to say that, Abner. But people wouldn’t come to you. They’d laff at you an’ call ye a fool."
"Let ’em call me whatever they like, Zeb. But they’d laff, an’ that’s jist what they need, as I told ye."