"Everything goes to loose ends where there ain't no woman," said Mrs. Bird.
"Jest look at old Fluett's house," said Aunt Sonora; "'tis chaos come agin—woman gone—everything spilt from garret to cellar."
"And jest so at Dobbins," added Mrs. Bird.
"I do raaly b'lieve," said Mrs. Beagle, "that if Longbow had put off gettin' him a woman six months longer, he'd a brok't down."
"Jest what the old man himself said," added Mrs. Bird.
"And—then—to—think," drawled out Mrs. Swipes, "that he should have been so fort'nit."
"Might-er tried a hundred times," said Mrs. Bird.
"And got bit," said Mrs. Swipes.
"Yes, and got bit," repeated Mrs. Bird. "There was a kind-er Providence in it. There certainly was."
"Jest what Parson Bigelow said," added Aunt Sonora; "he said he could see the hand-er Providence inter it, jest as plain as he wanted to."