The stories I garnered while we were sawing lumber have been written and are ready to post, and thus it is that one needs to prepare another tale. I find that my mill is turning, but there is no grist. As I ponder this sorry state of affairs, suddenly I hear, as though he were sitting in the lounger opposite me, the voice of the Old Uncle.
Uncle Jep went on to fill me in on Aunt Ida's life in the City.
Yes, Uncle, thank you. I think that may get me started.