"Well, it is too ridiculous for anything," Miss Butterworth repeated. "The idea of my living to be an old maid, and, what's more, making up my mind to it, and then"—and then Miss Butterworth plunged into a new fit of merriment.
"Well, Keziah, I hope you'll be very happy. Indeed I do," said Mrs. Snow, becoming motherly.
"Happy all your life," said Miss Snow.
"Very happy," said Number Two.
"All your life long," rounded up the complement of good wishes from the lips of the youngest of the trio.
"Well, I'm very much obliged to you—to you all "—said Miss Butterworth, wiping her eyes; "but it certainly is the most ridiculous thing. I say to myself sometimes: 'Keziah Butterworth! You little old fool! What are you going to do with that man? How are you going to live with him?' Goodness knows that I've racked my brain over it until I'm just about crazy. Don't mention it, but I believe I'll use him for a watch-dog—tie him up daytimes, and let him out nights, you know!"
"Why, isn't he nice?" inquired Mrs. Snow.
"Nice! He's as rough as a hemlock tree."
"What do you marry him for?" inquired Mrs. Snow in astonishment.
"I'm sure I don't know. I've asked myself the question a thousand times."