I lay awake the biggest heft of that night, a thinkin’ in deep thought, and a layin’ on plans. And finally I guess about three o’clock, I spoke out and says I:
“Josiah Allen, we have got to marry Molly to-day before we leave this house.”
“Good land!” says Josiah startin’ up on his piller full of horrer. “Good land,” says he, “I haint a Mormon, Samantha, I can’t marry to another woman.”
Says I coolly, “Lay down and compose yourself Josiah Allen; I am a goin’ to marry her myself.”
This skairt him worse than ever I could see, and he started up, with a still more ghastly look onto him. He was so pale with horrer that his bald head shone in the moonlight like a big goose egg, and his eyes stood out about a quarter of an inch with fear and excitement. He thought I was delerious; says he in tremblin’ tones: “What does ail you Samantha! Shant I rub your back? Don’t you want sunthin’ to take?”
Says I calmly, “I want a companion that wont interrupt me before I finish a speech. I am a goin’ to marry Molly to Tom Pitkins myself before I leave this house. Lay down Josiah Allen and keep still while I talk it over with you.”
“I HAINT A MORMON.”
“Talk it over!” says he in loud angry tones, throwin’ his head back on the piller. “I would break out in the dead of night, and scare a man to death, a talkin’ and a arguin’. Do go to sleep, and lemme.”
But I held firm, and would tell him about the plan I had been a layin’ on through the night. I would tell him how I meant to mollyfy the Deacon about Molly.