Josiah. Yes it would, Samantha; I guess you’d find it drawed harder, wimmen little know the awful tuckerin’ work it is to vote.
Samantha. Well, I’d like a pail of water, Josiah, and I wish you’d come and help me churn a little; seems as if my back will break off.
Josiah. I told you, Samantha, I’d got to grease that democrat! But what do you think of this beautiful article?
Samantha. The man goes too fur, Josiah, he hain’t megum enough, wimmen hain’t angels.
Josiah. They be angels; I always said so.
Samantha. And I always said they wuzn’t. And I always said that wimmen did harder work than to vote and men never seemed to worry about that.
Josiah. (Solemnly). No they don’t do any harder work, Samantha, votin’ wears on us strong minded men turribly, and what would it do to a weak, fraguile woman? Oh that man puts men and wimmen in their different spears so beautiful and so plain that it seems as if a infant babe, or even a woman, could understand it. (Josiah steps nearer to Samantha and points to the piece in the paper). If you’d foller this man’s idees, Samantha, I’d be the happiest man in Jonesville or the world. (He sits down, leans back with his fingers in the arm-holes of his vest in a very important attitude).
Samantha. (Reasonably). I’d be willin’ to charm you, Josiah but I don’t see how I could allure and charm and do my house work at the same time. And even if I wuz to do the Rose Act when I have a big churnin’ to do I don’t see how it would affect you, for you always have to grease the democrat or the sarah, or ile harnesses churnin’ days.
Josiah. (In a cross tone). What of it? What if I do?
Samantha. Oh don’t git agitated, Josiah, this butter has got to be churned and worked over, and the rest of my mornin’s work done, and I wish you’d pull up a pole of water, and help finish the churnin’ and bring up that tub from the suller and help pack it. It is hard work for a woman’s back and arms when they’re most broke already.