Aunt M. That girl’s going into a fit.
Lucy. It’s nothing; be as quiet as you can. (Left arm twitches.)
Aunt M. Gracious goodness! I tell you, Angelina, that gal’s in a fit! (Lucy’s head jerks, and she stares fixedly at Aunt M.) See her glare at me! I tell you she’s crazy. Angelina, if you don’t have that woman taken away, I’ll holler right eout!
Lucy. Sh—! I behold a vision! I see a woman before a wash-tub—a stout, rosy, healthy woman. She looks like you; and she rubs and sings, rubs and sings. (With imitation of rubbing.)
Mrs. L. That’s me—that’s just like me!
Lucy. I see her again! She’s ironing now; and she irons and sings, irons and sings. (Imitates.)
Mrs. L. Just like me—just like me!
Lucy. And now she sweeps (imitates), and now scrubs (imitates), singing all the while. Hark! what is it she sings?
Mrs. L. (Singing.)
“Let us sing merrily, lightly, and cheerily,