“‘I have been doing them up in a quair nice way,’ I said, bringing her the bundle.
“‘Will you iver be done wid your graneness!’ she axed me with a loud scrame.
“I can’t for the life of me be tellin’ what their talkin’ manes. At home we call the likes of this fine work starching; and a deal of it I have done, too. Och! and may the blessed Vargin pity me, for I never’ll be cured of my graneness!”
THE INVENTOR’S WIFE.
It’s easy to talk of the patience of Job. Humph! Job hed nothin’ to try him!
Ef he’d been married to ’Bijah Brown, folks wouldn’t have dared come nigh him.
Trials, indeed! Now I’ll tell you what—ef you want to be sick of your life,
Jest come and change places with me a spell—for I’m an inventor’s wife.