"Now, of course, wife, I'll get the town-hall for her to lecture in, and 'cause you're so daffy over the woman, I'll do my best to help her to get through with her temperance talks, but—" here he stopped and puffed his pipe, with an intense scowl on his honest, rough countenance.
"But what?" asked his wife, quickly.
"Well, Eliza, if I must out with it, I don't like the woman!"
"Ford Emmit, if that isn't the limit!" exclaimed his wife. "You do take the most unreasonable likes and dislikes. I think that she is the most wonderful, fascinating character."
"There you have it, Eliza! fascinating—that's the word,—fascinating, but it ain't all gold that glitters. She's slick."
"It isn't real Christian of you, Ford, to talk that way when you know she's come here to help in the Lord's work."
"Mebbe,—we'll see," he answered, quietly.
"Have you anything against her?" asked his wife a trifle anxiously.
"Only feelin's, wife."
"Then remember our good song, Ford,—'School thy feelings.'"