"It's a pity of him!" said motherly Mrs. Wackernagel.
"And I says to him," added the doctor, "I says, 'You ain't much fur sociability, are you?' I says."
"Well, I did think, too, Amanda," sympathized her mother, "he'd set up with you mebbe to-night, seein' Rebecca and Tillie's each got their gent'man comp'ny—even if he didn't mean it fur really, but only to pass the time."
"Och, he needn't think I'm dyin' to set up with HIM! There's a plenty others would be glad to set up with me, if I was one of them that was fur keepin' comp'ny with just ANYbody! But I did think when I heard he was goin' to stop here that mebbe he'd be a JOLLY feller that way. Well," Amanda concluded scathingly, "I'm goin' to tell Lizzie Hershey she ain't missin' much!"
"What's them pecooliar views of hisn you was goin' to speak to us, Doc?" said Absalom.
"Och, yes, I was goin' to tell you them. Well, here this after we got to talkin' about the subjeck of prayer, and I ast him his opinion. And if I understood right what he meant, why, prayin' is no different to him than musin'. Leastways, that's the thought I got out of his words."
"Musin'," repeated Absalom. "What's musin'?"
"Yes, what's that ag'in?" asked Mrs. Wackernagel, alert with curiosity, theological discussions being always of deep interest to her.
"Musin' is settin' by yourself and thinkin' of your learnin'," explained the doctor. "I've took notice, this long time back, educated persons they like to set by theirselves, still, and muse."
"And do you say," demanded Absalom, indignantly, "that Teacher he says it's the same to him as prayin'—this here musin'?"