"It couldn't well help bein' one," snarled the Cap'n. "They're about
all named Todd or Ward round here but one, and his name is Todd Ward
Brackett, and he's due next. And they're all tryin' to borry money
off'm me and sell me spavined hosses. Now, let's see if they can take
a hint." He tentatively wriggled the toe some more, and groaned. "The
Todds and the Wards better keep away from me."

Then he suddenly pricked up his ears at the sound of the slow rumble
of a wagon turning into the yard. The wagon halted, and they heard
the buzzing twang of a jew's-harp, played vigorously.

"There's your Todd Ward Brackett. I predicted him! 'Round here to
sell ye rotten thread and rusted tinware and his all-fired Balm o'
Joy liniment."

"It's good liniment, and I need some more for your toe, Aaron,"
pleaded his wife, putting her worsted out of her lap.

"I'll chop that toe off and use it for cod bait before I'll cure it
by buying any more liniment off'm him," the Cap'n retorted. "You jest
keep your settin', Louada Murilla. I'll tend to your fam'ly end after
this."

He struggled up and began to hop toward the end of the piazza. The
new arrival had burst into cheery song:

"There was old Hip Huff, who went by freight
To Newry Corner, in this State.
Packed him in a--"