Tirz. A. Wall; I don’t blame him mother. You ought to have seen Betsey last night to meetin’. She got up to talk, and she would look right at Elder Peedick, and then at the editor of the Augur, and at Simon Slimpsey, and says she: I know I am religious because I feel that I love the bretheren. I don’t blame him.
Sam. No, nor I nuther. I don’t want a man to be a tree, unless they want to, and I want them to use reason and not insist on every woman makin’ a vine of herself. But the Elder means middlin’ well, and he’d make a tolerable good husband for some woman.
Wid. D. It haint no ways likely I shall ever marry again. No other man’s linement can ever look to me like my Doodle’s linement.
Sam. But the Elder has belated us dreadfully with our Monday’s work. Here it is most night and we have only fairly got to work. But we can finish it in the morning. Yes, as I was a saying Tirzah Ann, Betsey hain’t handsome, her cheek bones are too high, and she, being not much more than skin and bone, they show more than if she was in good order. Time has seen fit to deprive her of her hair and teeth, but her large nose he has kindly suffered her to keep. I have seen a good many that was sentimental that had it bad; but Betsey has got it the worst of anybody I ever did see, unless it is her brother Shakespeare, and he acts as spoony round you, Tirzah Ann, as any spoon on my buttery shelves. It worrys me.
Wid D. My Doodle used to act spoony, as spoony as—as a teaspoon.
Sam. Wall if I thought there was any danger, Tirzah Ann, of you falling in love with Shakespeare Bobbett, I’d give you a good thoroughwort puke. That will cure most anybody if you take it in time.
Tirz. A. Wall, I guess there hain’t no chance, mother.
Sam. Wall, mabby not. Now you wring the clothes out, Tirzah Ann, and hang ’em right up here on the line.
Tirz. A. They will look awfully, mother, hangin’ up here. We shall look as if we was settin’ in a wet calico tent.
Sam. I don’t care, Tirzah Ann, we are so beat out we shall go to bed as soon as it is dark.