“Wall, I s'pos'd you'd like to hear what's goin' on 'round here, an' p'raps I can tell yer some things that other folks mightn't mention, 'cause they'd forgot it, or p'raps wouldn't want to tell. Is that cheer comfortable, Alice? I s'pose I ought to say Misses Guv'nor Sawyer, but it don't come nat'ral, I've known yer so long.”
“I shall always be Alice to my good friend Mrs. Hawkins and her daughter Mandy.”
“Speakin' o' Mandy, you know she's got two little boys—twins, one named after Deacon Mason, and t'other after your husband's friend Obadiah Strout, ther perfesser—and she's got a little girl, nigh on ter two years old named Marthy after me—but they don't call her Marthy—it's allus Mattie. These new-fangled names fuss me all up. If Mary and Marthy were good enough for the Lord's friends, I don't know what he'd think to hear 'em called Mamie and Mattie.
“Speakin' o' names, there's my Jonas, which is same as Jonah I s'pose. Anyway it fits him to a T, for he's a reg'lar Jonah if there ever was one, which our minister, Mr. Gay, you'll meet him at dinner-time to-morrow, says he's doubtful about.
“If a whale swallowed my Jonas it couldn't keep him down, for he's just satirated with tobacco smoke—he says he has to puff it on the hens and chickens to kill the varmints, and I should think it would. Do you smoke, Mr. Sawyer?”
“Cigars, occasionally. I am not an habitual smoker.”
“Well, old Mr. Trask told me as how pipe smoke wouldn't colour lace curtains same as cigars do. Now you jes' smoke all you want to up in your room an' I'll see if it washes out.”
“Alice dislikes smoke, and I never use tobacco in her presence—so your lace curtains won't suffer.”
“Wall, I'm kinder sorry for I wanted to see if Doctor Trask knew what he was talkin' about. When I'm rich I'll have three doctors and two on 'em will have to agree afore I'll take any of their pizen. I jes' remembered that the new minister, Mr. Gay, smokes. I'll put some lace curtains up in his room. You ain't seen him yet. He parts his hair in the middle. The gals are all crazy 'bout him. I like his preachin' putty well, but he don't use near as much brimstone as old Mr. Howe does.”
“Is Mr. Howe's son going to be a clergyman?” Alice asked.