Ped. Can’t I sell you something, madam.
Wid. D. Oh, no, I am a widder; and it hain’t no ways likely I shall ever marry agin. (She weeps, wipes her eyes on her apron)
Ped. Here, I have got just what you want and need. See this beautiful mourning handkerchief. It is almost worth the agony of bein’ a widder to enjoy the privilege of mournin’ on such a handkerchief as that. It is richly worth 75 cents, but you may have it for 25, and what will you give?
Wid. D. I will give a quarter of a dollar.
Ped. Take it at your own price. Now Madam (turning to Samantha). Let me sell you this beautiful carpet; it is the pure ingrain.
Sam. Ingrain; so be you ingrain.
Ped. I guess I know, for I bought it of old Ingrain himself. I give the old man 12 shillings a yard for it; but seeing it is you, and I like your looks so much, and it seems so much like home to me here, I will let you have it for 75 cents a yard; cheaper than dirt to walk on, or boards.
Sam. I don’t want it; I have got carpets enough.
Ped. Do you want it for 50 cents?
Sam. No!