“’N’ I s’pose Milton never does nothin’ ’baout th’ haouse naowadays,” remarked Samantha, interrogatively.
“No, siree!” snapped Alvira. “You bet he daon’t! He’s tew high ’n’ mighty fur thet! Prob’ly he’s furgot so much as th’ name of a churn, even. He might git his broadcloth suit spotted, tew. I wouldn’t dream o’ askin’ him. I’d ruther ask Seth any day then I hed Milton. He don’t put on half so many airs, even if he does git thirty dollars a week in Tecumseh, ’n’ live ’mong ladies ’n’ gentlemen ev’ry day ’f his life.”
Melissa rested from her labors again, to say sneeringly: “Pritty ladies ’n’ gentlemen he use’t to travel with, there in Tecumsy, accordin’ to all accaounts!” Alvira paused in turn, with her arms to the elbow in the floury mixing, and an angry glitter in her little black eyes. “Ef I was some folks, ’n’ hed some folk’s relations in Tecumsy, ’pears to me I’d keep my maouth pritty blamed shut ’baout what goes on there!”
The retort was ample. There was no answering sound, save the muffled splash and thud of Melissa’s vigorously-resumed churning.
The lull in conversation was beginning to grow oppressive when the young visitor asked: “Haow does th’ fine lady take it?”
“She seems more opset than anyone’d given her credit fur,” Alvira answered, sententiously.
Melissa interposed to expand this comment, and rest her arms: “Yes, she seems opset enough. P’raps she is. But then agin, p’raps ef you was young ’n’ good lookin’, with blew eyes ’n’ a lot o’ yalleh hair thet was all yer own, ’n’ you hed a hus-ban’ twice as old as you was, ’n’ he sh’d fall daown ’n’ break his neck, ’n’ leave you a rich young widder, p’raps you’d cry yer eyes aout—when people was lookin’—speshly if thet husban’ o’ yours left a likely young brother who was soft on yeh. When you git as old ’s I be, S’manthy, you’ll learn ther’s a good deal in appear’nces.”
“When she gits as old as you air,” broke in Alvira, sharply, “I hope she’ll learn better ’n’ to blab everythin’ thet comes into her head! You’ll let that cream break, ef yeh don’t look aout!”
“I don’t b’lieve its within an ’aour o’ comin’” said Melissa, wearily resuming her task.
“No, but—reelly,” began Samantha, “is Seth——?”