"Well, she might do worse. He's likely and healthy—"
"Humph—so's an onion. But he's a good man, John, and I trust Sarah to make him over into anything she wants. She's a managin' woman."
"But—but, Drusilla, I don't think he wants to get married, even if she does."
"Of course he don't. No man does; they have to be led up to it."
"Well, I don't know about this. He might not want Sarah. He looks to me like a man who knows his own mind."
"He ain't got a wide acquaintance if it's all he knows. But I mustn't be mean. 'Cause I couldn't live with him ain't no reason that a lot of women couldn't stand him. He's been a batch too long and always had his own way, and he's been a preacher where he could talk to people and they dassent talk back, but Sarah'd change all that, and make him real human before a year was past. I'm glad you thought of it, John."
John looked up, surprised.
"Me? Drusilla! It never entered my head."
"Didn't it? Well, you ought to 'a' thought of it before, and it'd all be done now. Here we've wasted all these months, and I've been pestered to death with 'em both. She's done more tattin' settin' in my sun parlor than'd trim all the petticoats in Brookvale. But, John, her heart is good and is kind of thawin' about the babies. I seen her a-givin' yards o' that stuff to Mary Allen the other day to trim her baby's dresses; and when little Isaac got most run over she got as white as a sheet and we both cried over him together, which kind of brought us closer. And if she marries Algernon, they'll have babies and she'll jest blossom right out."
"You seem to be planning rather far ahead, aren't you?"