JOHN B. PENNEPACKER
day, and Neiman he looks funny for avile and den he says, ‘Dat must haf been it.’ He nefer knowed any better, but my grandfadder he vas a little dricky.
“John, be careful about the buckwheat cradle.”
One idea always suggests another to John and he goes ambling along mentally with no particular destination in view, but ever entertaining and swept hither and yon by undercurrents of character, one of shrewdness and one of generosity.
“Dat vas a fery nice copper kittle at de Weishe vandue. Only it vonce had a hole in de bottom and hat been mendet. It vas not so nice a kittle as de one I let you have. Dat vas as nice a kittle as I efer saw. I vould haf kept dat vun for myself if you vouldn't haf vanted it. But ve haf such a vun at home — so! Dese kittles you could keep for a life time if you chust used dem yourself, but ven all de neighbors, dey vants to borrow dem to make abblebudder, den dey gets knocked. Some beople is careless. In olt dimes ven anybody porrowed a kittle dey had to give a pot of abblebudder. Dat vas de rule. But ve don't do dat vay any more. Ve chust lets dem haf de kittle. Mrs. Whitman, she vanted our kittle diese summer and I said all right, she could haf it. Den she sends me a pot of abblebudder. She is a fery nice voman. I did not vant it, but she chust makes me dake it.”
“Yes, John, that was a fine kettle I got from you.”
“So!”
At Weishe's sale, August 25, 1908, quantities of home-made linen bags, some of them made in the time of the grandfather, used for wheat, marked with the name of the owner of that time, rough, coarse in fiber, but thick and strong, were sold for a few pennies.
“Dey is fery good for dowels,” said John.
“Come in and get some tinner,” said the very stout
