Aunt M. What have you got hold of now? You’re allez a-making some powerful diskivery somewheres. What now? Something to turn gray eyes black, and blue eyes gray?
Mary. No; it’s a matrimonial advertisement. What a splendid fellow this “C. G.” must be!
Aunt M. Oh, shaw! A body must be dreadfully put to it, to advertise for a pardner in the newspapers. Thank goodness! I never got in such a strait as that ’er. The Lord has marcyfully kept me thus fur from having any dealings with the male sect, and I trust I shall be presarved to the end.
Jack Cole. Didn’t you ever have an offer, Aunt Mattie?
Aunt M. (indignantly.) Why, Jack Cole! What an idee! I’ve had more chances to change my condition than you’ve got fingers and toes. But I refused ’em all. A single life is the only way to be happy. But it did kinder hurt my feelings to send some of my sparks adrift—they took it so hard. There was Colonel Turner. He lost his wife in June, and the last of August he come over to our ’ouse, and I gave him to understand that he needn’t trouble himself; and he felt so mad that he went rite off and married the Widder Hopkins afore the month was out.
Jack. Poor fellow! How he must have felt! And, Aunt Mattie, I notice that Deacon Goodrich looks at you a great deal in meeting, since you’ve got that pink feather on your bonnet. What if he should want you to be a mother to his ten little ones?
Aunt M. (simpering). Law, Jack Cole! What a dreadful boy you be! (pinches his ear.) The deacon never thought of such a thing! But if it should please Providence to appoint to me such a fate, I should try and be resigned.
Granny Cole. Resigned? Who’s resigned? Not the President, has he? Well, I don’t blame him. I’d resign, too, if I was into his place. Nothing spiles a man’s character so quick as being President or Congress. Yer gran’father got in justice of the peace and chorus, once, and he resigned afore he was elected. Sed he didn’t want his repetition spiled.
Jack. Three cheers for Gran’father Cole!