charts, and put Beriah and Eben inside to look wise and make b'lieve do
something. That was the office of "The South Shore Weather Bureau," and
'twas sort of sacred and holy, and 'twould kill you to see the boarders
tip-toeing up and peeking in the winder to watch them two old coots
squinting through a telescope at the sky or scribbling rubbish on paper.
And Beriah was right 'most every time. I don't know why--my notion
is that he was born that way, same as some folks are born lightning
calculators--but I'll never forget the first time Peter asked him how he
done it.

"Wall," drawls Beriah, "now to-day looks fine and clear, don't it? But
last night my left elbow had rheumatiz in it, and this morning my bones
ache, and my right toe-j'int is sore, so I know we'll have an easterly
wind and rain this evening. If it had been my left toe now, why--"

Peter held up both hands.

"That'll do," he says. "I ain't asking any more questions. ONLY, if the
boarders or outsiders ask you how you work it, you cut out the bones
and toe business and talk science and temperature to beat the cars.
Understand, do you? It's science or no eight-fifty in the pay envelope.
Left toe-joint!" And he goes off grinning.

We had to have Eben, though he wasn't wuth a green hand's wages as a
prophet. But him and Beriah stuck by each other like two flies in the
glue-pot, and you couldn't hire one without t'other. Peter said
'twas all right--two prophets looked better'n one, anyhow; and, as
subscriptions kept up pretty well, and the Bureau paid a fair profit,
Jonadab and me didn't kick.