“Thank you; but even so, you might put things away occasionally, and not leave them scattered all over the place.”
“What’s the use? I never can find anything when it’s where it belongs; but if it’s left just where I drop it, I know right where it is when I want it.”
“That’s a man’s argument. Sakes alive! The least you could do would be to shut your bureau drawers.”
“What’s the use shuttin’ bureau drawers when you’ve got to open ’em again ’fore long?” Jonathan asked. “It just makes so much more trouble; and there’s trouble enough in this world, anyway.”
“You wouldn’t dare let things go like this when Sarah was livin’.”
“No,” Jonathan replied sadly, “but there’s some advantages in bein’ a widower. Of course I don’t mean no disrespect to Sarah, but opinions will differ about some things. She’d never let me go up the 65 front stairs without takin’ my boots off, so as not to soil the carpet; and when she died and the relatives tramped up and down reckless like, I almost felt as if it was wicked. For a fact, I did.”
“Well, I always told Sarah she was a slave to dust; I believe that dust worried her a lot more than her conscience, poor soul. I should think that Mary McGuire would tidy up for you a little bit once in a while.”
“Well, Mary does the best she knows how. But I like her goin’ better than comin’. The fact is, a man of my age can’t live alone always, Hepsey. It’s a change to live this way, till––”
“Oh, heaven save the mark! I can’t stay here talkin’ all day; but I’ll tidy up a bit before I go, if you don’t mind, Jonathan. You go on with what you call your sewin’.”
“Go ahead, Hepsey. You can do anything you like,” he replied, beaming upon her.