Sally. Yes, I did,—the worthless scamp!
Jarius. Then Deacon Sassafras wanted you to take the place of his late departed—didn’t he?
Sally. He wanted a drudge, the mean old skinflint!
Jarius. Why, he’s rich—the deacon is.
Sally. But awful mean. I don’t see how they trust him up behind the singing-seats with the contribution box Sundays. I wouldn’t.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Josh Higgins was kinder smitten one time—hey, Miss Peeslee.
Sally. Well, p’raps he was, and p’raps he wasn’t. He was too much smitten with whiskey for me.
Jarius. Jes’ so. Well, Sally—Miss Peeslee—you’re a smart gal; and if I want so pesky busy with my new reaper—I’d—I’d—
Sally. Well, what would you do, Mr. Jerden?
Jarius. I’d jest look round and pick out a smart husband for you.