“There are two women out on the porch, Joseph. Strangers. Perhaps you’d better see what they want.”
“—and if Tilden was elected, why in thunder did the majority of the voters of this here United States allow the Republicans to—”
“—and what’s more, if Hayes wasn’t honestly elected, why did the people turn in and elect a Republican, James A. Garfield, in 1880? That’s proof enough for me—”
“—Tilden had nearly half a million more votes than—”
“—And if the niggers had been allowed to vote in the South—”
“Oh, cheese it!”
Now this undignified exclamation was not uttered by either of the arguers; nevertheless it terminated the discussion so abruptly that for a moment or two it seemed that all three had suffered a simultaneous stroke of paralysis. They turned to confront and to stare open-mouthed at the wife of the minister, who had risen and was facing them with blazing eyes.
The horrified Mrs. Gooch, who had preserved a tremulous neutrality throughout the windy discussion, believed—and continued to believe to her dying day—that the brazen, overdressed young woman took the name of the Savior in vain when she gave vent to that astonishing command. (In witness whereof it is only necessary to record the declaration she made to her husband, sotto voce, a little later on: “Horace, if I live to be a thousand years old I’ll never get over the way that woman spoke the Christian name of our Lord Jesus Christ. It was positively outrageous.”)
Young Mrs. Sage, having thus impulsively reverted to slang, proceeded to amplify its effectiveness. She went on:
“Give us a rest, can’t you? Go chase yourselves! Where do you think you are? In a beer saloon? If you want to shoot off your mouths about—”