II
"WHEN JESS WENT A-FIDDLIN'"
The foregoing recital is unquestionably a long and tame preface to the statement that, after thinking the matter over I concluded to accept the offcial invitation to the fair—"The Middle Georgia Exposition" it was called—if nothing occurred to prevent. With this conclusion I dismissed the matter from my mind for the time being, and would probably have thought of it no more until the moment arrived to make a final decision, if the matter had not been called somewhat sharply to my attention.
Sitting on the veranda one day, ruminating over other people's troubles, I heard an unfamiliar voice calling, "You-all got any bitin' dogs here?" The voice failed to match the serenity of the suburban scene. Its tone was pitched a trifle too high for the surroundings.
But before I could make any reply the gate was flung open, and the new-comer, who was no other than Aunt Minervy Ann, flirted in and began to
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