In fact, when one came to look at her closely, there were seen assorted bits of cloth, fragments of some “block,” pinned here and there about her person; and as he watched her nimble fingers fly from one seam to another the gentleman’s amazement found expression.
“How can you manage to drive and sew at the same time? And is it necessary?”
“I guess you’re a Yankee yourself, aren’t you? Well, if I hadn’t been able to manage how do you s’pose I’d ever have got my quilt done in time for the State fair? Fifty-five thousand five hundred and fifty pieces there’s in it, and I’ve willed it to Jessica Trent when I’m done exhibitin’ it. None of ’em bigger ’n a finger nail, and all done over paper. That’s a piece of work, I ’low. What’s your complaint?”
“I–I don’t know as I have any. They’ve made me very comfortable and welcome.”
“Dare say. They couldn’t do otherwise. Giddap there, Balaam. Rosetty smells alfalfa, and you’ll have to step out to keep up with a cow ’at does that. I mean what’s your disease?”
“Oh! well–it’s of no consequence.”
“Man alive, don’t neglect yourself. You’re yallar. You’ve got the janders. Sure’s I’m a living woman that’s what it is.”
“I think not. I hope not,” said the poor man, but rather feebly.
“Sure. Or shingles. I’ve never seen a real likely case of shingles, and if it should be that, I’d just admire to nurse you. What victuals you been eating?”
The dyspeptic winced. This sounded truly professional, for all his numerous physicians had prefaced their treatment by a similar question.