It was very seldom, indeed that Davy Bressler found an opportunity to spend an evening with “the boys” as old cronies foregathered around the old stove in the country store and spat tobacco juice into the coal bucket. Years earlier Davy had been a member of that fraternity, but he was exiled as a result of his marriage to Sabina Lamb, who lived on the crest of South Mountain near Blainsport. He lived on the rocky farm with his wife’s people and his excursions to his old haunts in Womelsdorf were few.
Davy’s boyhood companions also had married, but their spouses lived in town. Horace Guth, Uriah Lengel, and “Butch” Geissler made it a part of life’s routine to seek the friendly shelter of Harvey Bennetch’s store – General Store, Dry Goods, Wet Goods, Groceries and Notions – each evenin, there to converse upon the topics of the day and pass judgement upon the acts of Congress or the merits of mechanical flies as fishing bait. One crisp October evening these veterans of the “cracker barrel” forum were astonished to see their old friend, Davy Bressler, enter the store and take a seat among them.
“Why! Davy! What are you doing away from your wife’s apron strings?” Taunted “Butch” Geissler.
“Just bought a new buggy from Andy Schoener, and I must wait until the wheels are greased before I can go home,” answered Davy, rather testily.
“Ei!Ei! What will Sabina say when you get home so late?”
“Sabina? My wife is the quiet kind. I am the boss in my home. You see, I married a Lamb, and lambs are meek and patient. Yep! I’m the boss with a capital B.
“Well,” muttered Horace Guth, “I married a Mauser, and you all know how sly mice are. She watches me like a cat that is a good mouser.”
“And I married a Haas, said Lengel, complainingly, and you know that rabbits sleep with one eye open. I can’t get away with anything.
“My wife’s maiden name was Baer,” explained “Butch” Geisseler. “I’ll admit that I’m afraid of her.”
“That’s where you fellows made a mistake,” chortled Davy, “always watch the name of the person you deal with. See, I bought my buggy from Andy Schoener – the name Schoener means “pretty – and I got a pretty buggy.”
“But will Sabina like it?” queried Horace, winking to Uriah, as he spoke.
“Sure she will. I bought it, didn’t I? And I’m the boss in my family, I, David Himmelberger Bressler!”
The following evening the group was assembled as usual, in the food emporioum belonging to Harvey Bennetch, when Davy stalked into the store room again. Surprised to see their buddy so soon after the visit of the previous evening, one of the veterans asked:
“How’s this, that you come to town in the evening, two evenings in a row.”
“I-er” mumbled Davy. “I brought back the buggy, Sabina didn’t like it.”