"You, Keyser! there's not a drop of water in the kitchen, and unless some's drawed there'll be no supper in this house _this_ night, now mind _me_!" _Keyser_ (with a look of pain upon his face).

"Well, well! this is too bad! too bad! Gentlemen, just wait half a minute.

I'll be right back.
The old woman's rarin' 'round, and she won't wait." Then we heard Keyser at work at the well-bucket; and looking out the back window, we saw him bringing in a pail of water.

On his way he encountered a dog, and in order to give his pent-up feelings adequate expression, he kicked the animal clear over the fence.

Presently he came into the parlor, mopped his forehead, and began again.
_Keyser_.