a harrow, as you may say--and it ain't no slouch of a harrow, nuther, you come to get it hitched on good.” “Well, it's awful, I think,” says the hare-lip. “I'll go to Uncle Harvey and--” “Oh, yes,” I says, “I _would_.  Of _course_ I would.  I wouldn't lose no time.” “Well, why wouldn't you?” “Just look at it a minute, and maybe you can see.  Hain't your uncles obleegd to get along home to England as fast as they can?  And do you reckon they'd be mean enough to go off and leave you to go all that journey by yourselves?  _you_ know they'll wait for you.  So fur, so good. Your uncle Harvey's a preacher, ain't he?  Very well, then; is a _preacher_ going to deceive a steamboat clerk? is he going to deceive a _ship clerk?_--so as to get them to let Miss Mary Jane go aboard?  Now _you_ know he ain't.  What _will_ he do, then?  Why, he'll say, 'It's a great pity, but my church matters has got to get along the best way they can; for my niece has been exposed to the dreadful pluribus-unum mumps, and so it's my bounden duty to set down here and wait the three months it takes to show on her if she's got it.'  But never mind, if you think it's best to tell your uncle Harvey--” “Shucks, and stay fooling around here when we could all be having good times in England whilst we was waiting to find out whether Mary Jane's got it or not?  Why, you talk like a muggins.” “Well, anyway, maybe you'd better tell some of the neighbors.” “Listen at that, now.  You do beat all for natural stupidness.  Can't you _see_ that _they'd_ go and tell?  Ther' ain't no way but just to not tell anybody at _all_.” “Well, maybe you're right--yes, I judge you _are_ right.” “But I reckon we ought to tell Uncle Harvey she's gone out a while, anyway, so he won't be uneasy about her?” “Yes, Miss Mary Jane she wanted you to do that.  She says, 'Tell them to give Uncle Harvey and William my love and a kiss, and say I've run over the river to see Mr.'--Mr.--what _is_ the name of that rich family your u