I sat a while talking with him, and watching Madge
McCulloch, his daughter, lay the tea table. I thought how I'd give
something to get her to lay the tea table for me as a habit, and I
didn't see how that was likely to come about.
Andrew McCulloch appeared to think most people in Adrian would be
more to his mind if buried with epitaphs describing them accurate.
It was eight o'clock when I came out and started for Pemberton's. I
came past McCulloch's fence, and heard some one speak near by, and
there was a man sitting on the top rail near the corner. It was
considerable dark.
"Been in to see King Solomon?" he says.
"What's that?" I says.
"Major General McCulloch," he says. "Why, I believe you stayed to
tea! Why, I haven't fetched that in three months!"
"Why not?"
"Oh," he says, "why, you see, the venerable ecclesiastic he's afraid
I'd want to come to breakfast too. He thinks I am a grasshopper and a
burden."
I thought it looked like a promising conversation, and climbed on
the fence beside him, and took a look at him in the starlight.
He said his name was "Billy Corliss," and explained why he sat on
the fence. He said it was on account of Andrew McCulloch.
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