Mrs. Shad.—Oh yes, he married Mournin’, and I saw her when she joined society.
Mrs. Barney.—Why, you don’t tell me so!
Mrs. Shad.—Oh, it’s the truth. She didn’t join till after she was married, and the church took on mightily about his marrying one out of society. But after she joined, they all got satisfied.
Mrs. Reed.—Why, la! me, the seven stars is ’way over here!
Mrs. Barney.—Well, let’s light our pipes, and take a short smoke, and go to bed. How did you come on raisin’ chickens this year, Mis’ Shad?
Mrs. Shad.—La messy, honey! I have had mighty bad luck. I had the prettiest pa’sel you most ever seed, till the varment took to killin’ ’em.
Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Barney.—The varment!!
Mrs. Shad.—Oh, dear, yes. The hawk catched a powerful sight of them; and then the varment took to ’em, and nat’ly took ’em fore and aft, bodily, till they left most none at all hardly. Sucky counted ’em up t’other day, and there warn’t but thirty-nine, she said, countin’ in the old speckle hen’s chickens that jist come off her nest.
Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Barney.—Humph—h—h!
Mrs. Reed.—Well, I’ve had bad luck, too. Billy’s hound-dogs broke up most all my nests.