“What did she want to come here for? I should think she would know enough to stay away.”
“To think we have got to be tormented by seein’ her,” says another voice.
“I hate to have her come as bad as you do children,” says a voice I knew was Delila Ann’s; “but we must try to bear up under it; she wont stay probable more’n two or three hours.”
“I thay, I hope she wont sthay two minith,” says another voice with a lisp to it.
“We wont let her stay,” says a little fine voice.
I declare for’t, if it hadn’t been for my vow I would have turned right round in my tracks; but I remembered it wasn’t the pious folks that needed the most preachin’, and if ever promiscous advisin’ seemed to be called for, it was now. And jest as I was a rememberin’ this, the hired girl come back with my cuff button.
The minute she opened that parlor door, I see that I had got into the house of mournin’. The room, which resembled the hall and the front door as much as if they was three twins, seemed to be full of braize delaine, and bobinet lace, and thin ribbin, all bathed in tears and sobs. When I took a closer look, I see there was eight wimmen under the gauzes and frizzles and folderols and etcetery; some of ’em held dime novels in their hands, and one of ’em held a white pup.
The moment I went in, every one of ’em jumped up and kissed me, and throwed their arms round me. Some of the time I had as many as six or seven arms at a time round me in different places, and every one of ’em was a tellin’ me in awful warm tones, how glad, how highly tickled they was to see me; they never was so carried away with enjoyment and happy surprise in their hull lives before; and says four of ’em tenderly:
“You must stay a week with us anyway.”
“A week!” says the little fine voice, “that haint nuthin’, you must stay a month, we wont let you off a day sooner.”