That evening, as we were sitting smoking on the porch, old Peter’s mind reverted to the subject of the unfounded charge against me.  “It goes pretty hard,” he remarked, “to have to stand up and take a thing you don’ like when there’s no call fur it.  It’s bad enough when there is a call fur it.  That matter about your fish buyin’ reminds me of what happened two summers ago to my sister, or ruther to her two little boys—­or, more correct yit, to one of ’em.  Them was two cur’ous little boys.  They was allus tradin’ with each other.  Their father deals mostly in horses, and they must have got it from him.  At the time I’m tellin’ of they’d traded everythin’ they had, and when they hadn’t nothin’ else left to swap they traded names.  Joe he took Johnny’s name, and Johnny he took Joe’s.  Jist about when they’d done this, they both got sick with sumthin’ or other, the oldest one pretty bad, the other not much.  Now there ain’t no doctor inside of twenty miles of where my sister lives.  But there’s one who sometimes has a call to go through that part of the country, and the people about there is allus very glad when they chance to be sick when he comes along.  Now this good luck happened to my sister, fur the doctor come by jist at this time.  He looks into the state of the boys, and while their mother has gone downstairs he mixes some medicine he has along with him.  ‘What’s your name?’ he says to the oldest boy when he’d done it.  Now as he’d traded names with his brother, fair and square, he wasn’t goin’ back on the trade, and he said, ‘Joe.’  ‘And my name’s Johnny,’ up and says the other one.  Then the doctor he goes and gives the bottle of medicine to their mother, and says he:  ’This medicine is fur Joe.  You must give him a tablespoonful every two hours.  Keep up the treatment, and he’ll be all right.  As fur Johnny, there’s nothin’ much the matter with him.  He don’t need no medicine.’  And then he went away.  Every two hours after that Joe, who wasn’t sick worth mentionin’, had to swallow a dose of horrid stuff, and pretty soon he took to his bed, and Johnny he jist played round and got well in the nat’ral way.  Joe’s mother kept up the treatment, gittin’ up in the night to feed that stuff to him; but the poor little boy got wuss and wuss, and one mornin’ he says to his mother, says he:  ’Mother, I guess I’m goin’ to die, and I’d ruther do that than take any more of that medicine, and I wish you’d call Johnny and we’ll trade names back agen, and if he don’t want to come and do it, you kin tell him he kin keep the old minkskin I gave him to boot, on account of his name havin’ a Wesley in it.’  ‘Trade names,’ says his mother, ‘what do you mean by that?’ And then he told her what he and Johnny had done.  ’And did you ever tell anybody about this?’ says she.  ‘Nobody but Dr. Barnes,’ says he.  ’After that I got sick and forgot it.’  When my sister heard that, an idee struck into her like you put a fork into an apple dumplin’.  Traded names, and told the doctor!  She’d