Not a word does she say about brother Timothy, but I hold firm and so does Josiah; we do well by the Widder.
Says he, “I believe you never see the corpse.”
“No,” says she, “but I have heerd her well spoke of; sister Samantha was a sayin’ jest before you come in, that she was a likely woman.”
“She was!” says he a smitin’ himself hard, “she was; my heart strings was completely wrapped round that woman; not a pair of pantaloons have I hired made sense we was both on us married to each other; nor a vest. I tell you it is hard to give her up Widder; dretful hard; she was healthy, savin’, equinomical, hard workin’, pious; I never realized how much I loved that woman;” says he in a heart broken tone, “I never did till I see I must give her up and hire a girl at 2 dollars a week; and they waste more’n their necks are worth.” Here he stopped a minute and sithed, and she sithed, so loud that I could hear ’em plain into the buttery; and then he went on in still more melancholly and despairin’ tones.
“I LOVED THAT WOMAN.”
“I tell you I have seen trouble for the last month Widder. It’s only four weeks ago yesterday, that I lost the best cow I had, and now my wife is dead; I tell you it cuts me right down Widder, it makes me feel dretful poor.”
I could tell by his voice that he was jest ready to bust out cryin’; Solomon takes her death hard, dretful. Here they both sithed again so powerful that they seemed more like groans than common sithes; and then he continued on:
“It seems Widder as if my heart will bust,” and I could see as I went acrost the buttery for the rollin’ pin, that he had laid his left hand over his heart, as if he was holdin’ it inside of his vest by main strength; “it seems as if it must bust, it is so full of tender memories for that woman. When I think how she would git up and build fires in the winter—”
“That is jest what I love to do,” says sister Doodle, “I always built fires for my Doodle.”