Jack. Poor Mr. C. G.! Why don’t you answer it, Aunt Mattie; and tell him you’ll darn his stockings for him, and comb that fair hair of his?
Aunt M. Jack Cole! if you don’t hold your tongue, I’ll comb your hair for you in a way you won’t like. Me answering one of them low advertisements! Me, indeed! I hain’t so eager to get married as some folks I know. Brother Cyrus and I have lived all our lives in maiden meditation, fancy free—the only sensible ones of the family of twelve children; and it’s my idee that we shall continner on in that way.
Mary. Why, don’t you believe that Uncle Cyrus would get married if he could?
Aunt M. Your Uncle Cyrus! I tell you, Mary Cole, he wouldn’t marry the best woman that ever trod! I’ve hearn him say so a hundred times.
Mary. Won’t you answer this advertisement, auntie? I’ll give you a sheet of my nicest gilt-edge note-paper if you will!
Aunt M. (furiously). If you weren’t so big, Mary Jane Cole, I’d spank you soundly! I vow I would! Me answer it, indeed!
(Leaves the room in great indignation.)
Mary. Look here, Jack. What’ll you bet she won’t reply to that notice?
Jack. Nonsense! Wouldn’t she blaze if she could hear you?