"Let them turn—I can do without them very well," replied Molly, tossing her head.
"Ah, you're young yet, my dear, an' thar's a long road ahead of you. But wait till you've turned forty an' you'll find that the man you throwed over at twenty will come handy, if for nothin' mo' than to fill a gap in the chimney. I ain't standin' up for 'em, mind you, an' I can't remember that I ever heard anything particular to thar credit as a sex—but po' things as we allow 'em to be, thar don't seem but one way to git along without 'em, an' that is to have 'em. It's sartain sure, however, that they fill a good deal mo' of yo' thought when they ain't around than when they are. Why, look at William, now—the first time he axed me to marry him, I kept sayin' 'you're still slue-footed an' slack-kneed an' addle-headed an' I'll marry you whether or no.' Twenty years may not change a man for the better, but it does a powerful lot toward persuadin' a woman to put up with the worst!"
"Well, best or worst, I've seen enough of marriage, Mrs. Bottom, to know that I shouldn't like it."
"I ain't denyin' it might be improved on without hurtin' it—but a single woman's a terrible lonesome body, Molly."
"I'm not lonely, while I have grandfather."
"He's old an' he ain't got many years ahead of him."
"If I lose him I'll go to Applegate and trim hats for a living."
"It's a shame, Molly, with the po' miller splittin' his heart over you."
"He'll mend it. They're like that, all of them."
"But Mr. Mullen? Ain't he different now, bein' a parson?"