’Wall ye know that Ow Barker — runs a hardware store in Migleyville — he sold him a patent right.  Figgered an’ argued night an’ day fer more ’n three weeks.  It was a new fangled wash biler.  David he thought he see a chance if put out agents an’ make a great deal o’money.  It did look jest as easy as slidin’ downhill but when we come slide — wall, we found out we was at the bottom o the hill ‘stid o’ the top an’ it wan’t reel good slidin .  He paid five thousan’ dollars fer the right o’ten counties.  Then bym bye Barker he wanted him t’go security fer fifteen hunderd bilers thet he was hevin’ made.  I to!’ David he hedn’t better go in no deeper but Barker, he promised big things an’ seemed if be sech a nice man ’at fin’ly David he up ’n done it.  Wall he’s hed ’em t’ pay fer an’ the fact is it costs s’much if sell ’em it eats up all the profits.

‘Looks like a swindle,’ I said indignantly.

‘No,’ said Uncle Eb, “tain’t no swindle.  Barker thought he hed a gran’ good thing.  He got fooled an’ the fool complaint is very ketchin’.  Got it myself years ago an’ I’ve been doctorin’ fer it ever sence.

The story of David’s undoing hurt us sorely.  He had gone the way of most men who left the farm late in life with unsatisfied ambition.

‘They shall never want for anything, so long as I have my health,’ I said.

‘I have four hundred dollars in the bank,’ said Hope, ’and shall give them every cent of it.

‘Tain’ nuthin’if worry over,’ said Uncle Eb.  ‘If I don’ never lose more’n a little money I shan’t feel terrible bad.  We’re all young yit.  Got more’n a million dollars wuth o’ good health right here ’n this room.  So well, I’m ’shamed uv it!  Man’s more decent if he’s a leetle bit sickly.  An’ thet there girl Bill’s agreed t’marry ye!  Why!  ’Druther hev her ‘n this hull city o’ New York.

‘So had I,’ was my answer.

’Wall, you am’no luckier ‘n she is — not a bit,’ he added.  ’A good man’s better ’n a gol’mine ev’ry time.

‘Who knows,’ said Hope.  ’He may be president someday.

‘Ther’s one thing I hate,’ Uncle El continued.  ’That’s the idee o hevin’ the woodshed an’ barn an’ garret full o’ them infernal wash bilers.  Ye can’t take no decent care uv a hoss there ‘n the stable’ they’re so piled up.  One uv ’em tumbled down top o’ me t’other day.  ’Druther ’twould a been a panther.  Made me s’mad I took a club an’ knocked that biler into a cocked hat.  ’Tain’t right!  I’m sick o’ the sight uv ’em.

‘They’ll make a good bonfire someday,’ said Hope.

‘Don’t believe they’d burn,’ he answered sorrowfully, ’they’re tin.

’Couldn’t we bury ’em?’ I suggested.

‘Be a purty costly funeral,’ he answered thoughtfully.  ’Ye’d hev if dig a hole deeper n Tupper’s dingle.

‘Couldn’t you give them away?’ I enquired.