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William T. Cox's
“ T H E    H O D A G    A N D   O T H E R   T A L E S    O F   T H E   L O G G I N G   C A M P S ”
(  90th  A N N I V E R S A R Y    H Y P E R T E X T   E D I T I O N  )
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dinner, while I visited with her husband. She was sorry for me because of the chronic illness of my ox. I told her what I had named the ox and she thought that it was a cute name and how did I ever think of it. Then, before I even had a chance to say anything to Bill, she went on, “I have a book at home with a lot of cute names in it. I love to read it but I never have read it clear through. I can’t remember whether the title of the book is Huckleberry Inn or Mark Twain. I’ll bet that they had a good time at that inn.”
    And so she rattled on. Bill had found my tobacco and was helping himself to it. The children were scattered all over the house in every conceivable spot and Hell was out for Sunday. I had no way of driving them out so I had to make the best of it. Bill was very sociable and told me the history of his life and many other things.
    Finally, Mrs. Watson called us to a late dinner. I will have to give her credit for getting a fine meal. She had drawn up two tables that did not match, one of them being about four inches taller than the other. She had spread a blanket over the tables. The smaller children were seated at the lower table, so we all managed to squeeze in.
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    I discovered to my consternation that Mrs. Watson had cooked just about all of my supplies that I thought would last me for several months. As I look back now, I should have enjoyed it but I did not appreciate the comedy then, in the reality. I could not describe that meal and how I got through it, is a mystery. Those children acted as if they had not had anything to eat for a week. It was not until dinner was over that I understood, fully why I had to suffer this invasion.
    Bill said, “We are having our house shingled so the wife thought that this was a good time to come over and be neighborly. She thought that she could clean up your place while our house is being shingled and as you are Irish, we knew that you are very hospitable.”
    I had never fully realized before the true import of that expression, “cleaning up”. Whenever I hear it, I think of that event. One would think that after the dinner they had eaten, they would not have needed anything more that night. But such was not the case. A supper went down the same way that the preceding meal had.
    When it was time for the children to go to bed, x
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