Sister Doodle, (Josiah thought it was best to call her so some of the time, he thought it would seem more friendly) she says, the widder does, that she never see a couple live together any happier and agreabler than me and Josiah live together. She told me it reminded her dretfully of her married life with Doodle. (Josiah had cooed at me a very little that mornin’—not much, for he knows I don’t encourage it in him.)
Truly Doodle is her theme, but I hold firm.
She was a helpin’ me wash my dishes, and she begun: how much Josiah and I reminded her of her and Doodle.
Says she—“Nobody knows how much that man thought of me; he would say sometimes in the winter when we would wake up in the mornin’: ‘My dear Dolly,’—he used to call me that, though my name is Nabby, but he said I put him in mind so of a doll, that he couldn’t help callin’ me so—‘My dear Dolly,’ he’d say, ‘I have been a dreamin’ about you.’
“‘Have you Mr. Doodle?’ says I.
“‘Yes,’ says he, ‘I have been a dreamin’ how much I love you, and how pretty you are—jest as pretty as a pink posy.’ Them was Mr. Doodle’ses very words: ‘a pink posy.’
“I’d say,—‘Oh shaw, Mr. Doodle, I guess you are tryin’ to foolish me.’
“Says he—‘I haint, I dremp it.’ And then there would come such a sweet smile all over his linement, and he would say:
“‘Dolly, I love to dream about you.’
“‘Do you, Mr. Doodle?’ says I.