And the woman he loved—well, she’s married you know!
THAT HIRED GIRL.
When she came to work for the family on Congress street, the lady of the house sat down and told her that agents, picture-sellers, peddlers, ragmen, and all that class of people must be met at the front door and coldly repulsed, and Sarah said she’d repulse them if she had to break every broomstick in town.
And she did. She threw the door open wide, bluffed right up at ’em, and when she got through talking, the cheekiest agent was only too glad to leave. It got so after a while that peddlers marked that house, and the door-bell never rang except for company.
The other day, as the girl of the house was wiping off the spoons, the bell rang. She hastened to the door, expecting to see a lady, but her eyes encountered a slim man, dressed in black and wearing a white necktie. He was the new minister, and was going around to get acquainted with the members of his flock, but Sarah wasn’t expected to know this.
“Ah—um—is—Mrs.—ah!”
“Git!” exclaimed Sarah, pointing to the gate.
“Beg pardon, but I would like to see—see—!”