"Well, that isn't your fault, Mrs. Wiley; you come of a large family and you ought to be very grateful, because if you hadn't you'd never have had this jacket. If there hadn't been close on to two full breadths in each of his legs, I never could have got it out. There's nothing takes more skill than making a man's clothes over for any one but a boy. Yes, indeed. Very few can think how difficult it is to adapt a man's legs with the knees bagged, to either the front or back of a coat for you. No, they never even bought postals. They never write at all. What would they write with? You can't write with a case-knife."
"No, that's so. I must say I think you've put that braid on beautiful. Do you want me to slip it on now, or shall I wait? Uncle Purchase is up at the house always, you know, and I mustn't be gone too long, but Lottie Ann's there, so it don't matter much, after all."
"I'll be ready in a second. I'd be further along, only Sammy Adams was in last evening, and he hates to see me sew every minute. I sewed a good deal of his visit—I don't know why I should consider Sammy Adams's ideas when he don't consider mine. Taking in any one nights that way! I tell you I had that out with him once for all. There,—that's your pocket; big enough?"
"Well, I wouldn't make it any bigger. What did he tell you about his taking 'em in? Mrs. Ray, I took your advice and tried milk on Lottie Ann, and she can't take any but buttermilk. Will that do her as much good as milk in its first?"
"I don't know why it shouldn't. I tell you frankly, Mrs. Wiley, you'll need every inch of the room in this pocket. You may have your prayer-book and a box of peppermint, and two or three other little things, and you'll find this pocket very handy; the way I've got it cut it'll hold as much as a small valise. I wouldn't cut it off, if it was my coat. I always need all my pockets. But then I always have to carry so many things, a corkscrew and a monkey-wrench and the key to my hens. He said the rain was pouring down, and he didn't see anything to do but take them in. Of course, if you're Sammy's easy kind, and it's raining, too, you can see how that would be. He'd take a snake in, if it asked him with a smile."
"What do you think of cutting off about a half inch? I don't wonder that he took them in, myself. But, Mrs. Ray, she don't like milk, anyhow, and shouldn't you think morning and night was enough?"
"I'll do it if you say so, of course, Mrs. Wiley. But I can't see myself cutting them off, if they were mine. Of course, two glasses is better than none, but two isn't six. I only know if it was me I'd never of let them in, in this world."
"I'll try to get her to take four. Shall I slip it on now? Do tell me what else he said?"
"If she was my girl, I'd see she took what I told her; I don't believe in spoiling children. No, you'll have to wait. Why, Mrs. Wiley, would you believe that that poor innocent didn't know a thing about the case-knives till I told him. You know he don't often come to town."
"Well, I never! I told Uncle Purchase all about it, and he promised me he'd never take any one in. I thought I'd better be on the safe side, even if Uncle Purchase hasn't let any one come into his house for twenty years. Isn't it strange? But then Uncle Purchase is strange. The last time I was in his house was when Abner was a baby. He had a dozen tissue-paper hyacinths planted in real pots with the earth watered, to make them look real. Uncle Purchase's quite a character."