His sentence was broken in upon by a shrill voice that called from Silas Bollender’s kitchen door:
“Si, you’d better be a-gittin’ about yore work instid o’ standin’ over there a-gassin’ all the mornin’. I’m shore I don’t have no time to stand around.”
“All right, Mollie; speakin’ of mortifyin’ the flesh an’ makin’ a sacrifice of yoreself, Nathan, why don’t you git married?”
Nathan started.
“Then you’d be shore to accomplish both. Fur pure mortification of the flesh, I don’t know of nothin’ more thoroughgoin’ er effectiver than a wife. Also she is a vexation to a man’s sperit. You raaly ought to git married, Nathan.”
“Do you think so?”
“It looks to me that that ’ud be about as good a sacrifice as you could make; an’ then it’s such a lastin’ one.”
“I don’t believe you realize what you air a-sayin’, Silas. It’s a mighty desprit step that you’re advisin’ me to take.”
Again Mrs. Bollender’s voice broke in:
“Si, air you goin’ to git anything done this mornin’, er air you goin’ to stand there an’ hold up that fence fur the rest of the day?”