The mountain farmer got in his pickup and drove several miles to a neighboring farm and knocked on the farmhouse door. A young boy, about 12 opened the door.
“Is yer paw home?” the farmer asked.
“No sir he ain’t,” the boy replied. “He went to town.”
“Well,” said the farmer, “is yer maw here?”
“No, she ain’t here neither. She went to town with paw.”
“How about your brother, Joe, is he here?”
“No, he went with maw and paw.”
The farmer stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself.
“Is there anything I can do fer ya?,” the boy inquired politely.
“I know where all the tools are, if you want to borry one. Or maybe I could take a message fer paw.”
“Well,” said the farmer uncomfortably, “I really wanted to talk to yer paw. It’s about your brother Joe getting my daughter, Pearly Mae, pregnant.”
The boy considered for a moment. “You would have to talk to pa about that,” he finally conceded. “But if it helps you any, I know that pa charges $50 for the bull and $25 for the boar hog, but I really don’t know how much he gets for Joe.”