"That's it! Go on! Nag, nag, nag! Don't stop, or
I might manage to get a word in! Yes, I'm late, of course I'm late
Do you expect me to drive by the clock? Maybe I did forget the
sugar! Maybe I've got nothing on my mind but errands! Whiskey? Maybe
it's whiskey, and maybe it's gin, and maybe it's grape-juice!" The
farmer set down his milk-pail and his lantern, and shook his
clenched fist at the patient cattle. "I'm a man, I am, and I'll have
you understand I'm master in my own house! I'll drink if I feel like
drinking, I'll stop and chat with my neighbors if I feel like
stopping, I'll buy sugar if I remember to buy it, and if you don't
like it, you can buy your own!" And so on--becoming more inspired
with his own eloquence--or maybe with the whiskey, or the gin, or
the grape-juice; until young Philip became so filled with the spirit
of the combat that he popped up out of the hay and shouted, "Good
for you, old man! Stand up for your rights! Don't let her down you!
Hurrah for men!" And the astounded farmer stood staring with his
mouth open, while the two "wobbles" leaped up and fled from the
barn, so convulsed with laughter they hardly noticed the floods of
rain pouring down upon them.
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