“On Springfield’s maountins there did dwell
A lovelye youth, an’ known full well,
Leftenant Carter’s onlie son,
A galliant youth, nigh twenty-one.”
(Sees his wife, who does not look up.)
Capt. G. Hullo, Lorany! didn’t know yer was thar. What makes yer so glum? (Aside) Oh, the caarf, I bet! Say, Lorany, I’m plaguy sorry I sold the caarf. I’d buy her back, but the fellers ’d laf at me. I told some on ’em haow bad yer felt, daown to the store. And old Pete Rosson, he was a-sittin’ on a kintle o’ salt fish; he said: “Wimmin’s rights! I s’pose Mis’ Gandy went ter the meetin’ and heerd the lectur’-woman. I guess Mis’ Rosson wouldn’t dare ter complain ef I sold one o’ her caarfs. I’d let her know they was mine, double quick.” Won’t yer take up yer money, Lorany?
Mrs. G. (dusting). No! Nathan, I won’t! So, there! It ’ill hev to stay there, wher’ it dropped, for all o’ me; for I’ll never pick it up as long as I live. I tho’t all we had was aourn together, and that everything belonged as much ter me as it does ter you. But I see naow that it’s as the lectur’-woman sed. I read it in the Transkip:—“Husband and wife is one, but that one is the husband.” I shouldn’t ’a’ tho’t o’ sellin’ yaour caarf or yaour best caow. You call ’em yaourn, an’ the caarf was allus called mine. An’, then, little Sally, that’s gone, tho’t so much on’t! (Wipes her eyes.)
Capt. G. Hang it! don’t take on so. (Aside) Darn them fellers, flingin’ their wimmin’s right at me! (To her) Who cares what the lectur’-woman says? Some darned old maid, or divorced widder, I s’pose. Didn’t I buy suthin’ for yer with the money! Didn’t I buy yer a gaown, a shawl, an’ a bunnit! An’, when yer didn’t like ’em, didn’t I give yer all the money back, and yer wouldn’t take it! An’ didn’t yer fling it daown on the floor, an’ vaow you wouldn’t pick it up!
Mrs. G. Yes, but yer never as’d me! an’ I didn’t want her sold, nuther! You know haow I took care o’ that caarf. Her mother died, an’ never saw her. I almost feel as if she was mine; for I brought her up like a baby, and she sucked milk from my finger before she could stan’. I’m sure I’m as much her mother as harf the hens are mothers of their chickens: for they never see some o’ the eggs till they are put under ’em to hatch, an’ they don’t know which is which.
Capt. G. Waal! yaou’ve got yer new things, hain’t ye? an’ I’m glad on’t. I’m abaout sick o’ them black clo’es o’ yourn. They look so maugre. For my part, I want ter see yer in suthin’ bright.