"Can't wait for her!" said Abijah, as he sallied out of the house to get into the wagon, which stood before the door, into which he had packed a copious supply of hams, eggs, dressed chickens, corn-meal, and green summer vegetables, to say nothing of the barrel of whiskey aforesaid.
"I say, Dad, you stop!" called Polly, from the window. "If you don't, I'll make work for you 'fore you come home; you see if I don't! Durned if I won't!"
"Come along, then, can't you? Next time we go anywhere, I'll shut you up over night to begin to dress!"
Polly hastily squeezed her fat form into a red calico dress, and, seizing a gay summer shawl, with her bonnet in her hand, rushed to the wagon and mounted, the hooks of her dress successively exploding, and flying off, as she stooped to get in.
"Durned if I knows what to do!" said she; "this yer old durned gear coat's all off my back!"
"Gals is always fools!" said Abijah, consolingly.
"Stick in a pin, Polly," said her mother, in an easy, sing-song drawl.
"Durn you, old woman, every hook is off!" said the promising young lady.
"Stick in more pins, then," said the mamma; and the vehicle of Abijah passed onward.