Lincoln had not taken his eyes from the stove. He seemed to be seeing things in the fire, for he smiled to himself.
"Well," he drawled, "I reckon that some day we may have to find some sort of a king. The new pants have got to be made."
Mr. Stanton shrugged his shoulders, and the other,quick to detect annoyance, scrambled to his feet and stood looking down from his great height at his dapper antagonist. A kindly quizzical smile lit his homely face. "We'll quit arguing, Mr. Stanton, for I admit I'm afraid of you. You're some years younger than me,but I expect you would have me convinced on your side if we went on. And maybe I'd convince you too,and then we'd be like old Jim Fletcher at New Salem.You'll have heard about Jim. He had a mighty quarrel with his neighbour about a hog, Jim alleging it was one of his lot and the neighbour claiming it for his.Well, they argued and argued, and the upshot was that Jim convinced the neighbour that the hog was Jim's,and the neighbour convinced Jim that the hog was the neighbour's, and neither of them would touch that hog,and they were worse friends than ever."