A Melting Story(after M.Twain)One w

A Melting Story
(after M.Twain)

One winter evening a country storekeeper in the Green Mountain State was about closing up for the night, and while standing in the snow outside, putting up the window shutters, saw through the glass a fellow within grab a pound of fresh butter from the shelf and conceal it in his hat.
“I say, Seth,” said the storekeeper, coming in and stamping the snow off his feet.
Seth had his hand on the door, his hat on his head, and the roll of butter in his hat, anxious to make his exit as soon as possible.
“I say, Seth, sit down. I think, now, on such a cold night as this a little something warm would not hurt a fellow”.
Seth felt very uncertain. He had the butter, and was exceedingly anxious to be off; but the temptation of something warm sadly interfered with his resolution to go. Seth was in such a manner cornered in by the boxes and barrels that, while the grocer stood before him, there was no possibility of getting out.
“Seth, we’ll have a little warm Santa Cruz,” said the storekeeper; so he opened the stove door, and stuffed in as many sticks as the place would admit; “without it you’d freeze going out on such a night like this.”
Seth already felt the butter settling down closer to his hair; and he jumped up declaring he must go.
“No till you have something warm, Seth. Come, I’ve got a story to tell you.”
And Seth was again rushed into his seat by his cunning tormentor.
“Oh, it’s hot here,” said the thief, attempting to rise.
“Sit down, don’t be in such a hurry.”
“But I’ve got the cows to feed and the wood to split – I must be going.”
“But you mustn’t tear yourself away, Seth, in this manner. Sit down; let the cows take care of themselves, and keep yourself easy. You appear to be a little fidgety,” said the roguish grocer, with a wicked leer.
Next thing he did was to produce two smoking glasses of hot toddy, the very sight of which, in Seth’s present situation, would have made the hair stand erect upon his head if it hadn’t been well oiled and kept down by the butter.
“Come, Seth, take you toddy.”
Steak after steak of butter came poring from under his hat, and his handkerchief was already soaked with greasy overflow.
Talking as if nothing was the matter, the fun-loving grocer kept stuffing wood into the stove, while poor Seth was sitting with his back against the counter and his knees touching the red-hot stove before him.
“Why, Seth, don’t you take your hat off? Here, let me put your hat away,” said the grocer.
“No!” exclaimed poor Seth. “No! I must go! Let me out! I’m not well!”
A greasy mass was now pouring down the poor man’s face and neck, and soaking into his clothes, and trickling down his body into the boots, so that he was in a perfect bath of oil.
“Well, good night, Seth,” said the humorous grocer at last, and added: “I say, Seth, I reckon the fun I have had out of you is worth nine pence, so I shan’t charge you for that pound of butter in your hat.”