Says I in awful earnest tones, “Thomas Jefferson, you are gettin’ into a dangerous path,” says I, “don’t let me hear another word of such talk; we should all be willin’ to bear our crosses.”
“I am willin’ to bear any reasonable cross, mother, but I hate to tackle them old Jews and shoulder ’em, for there don’t seem to be any need of it.”
I put on about as cold a look onto my face as I could under the circumstances, (I had been fryin’ buckwheat pancakes,) and Thomas J. turned to his father—
“Betsey Bobbet talked in meetin’ last night after the sermon, father, she said she knew that she was religious, because she felt that she loved the bretheren.”
Josiah laughed, the way he encourages that boy is awful, but I spoke in almost frigid tones, as I passed him his 3d cup of coffee,
“She meant it in a scriptural sense, of course.”
“I guess you’d think she meant it in a earthly sense, if you had seen her hang on to old Slimpsey last night, she’ll marry that old man yet, if he don’t look out.”
“Oh shaw!” says I coolly, “she is payin’ attention to the Editer of the Augur.”
“She’ll never get him,” says he; “she means to be on the safe side, and get one or the other of ’em; how stiddy she has been to meetin’ sense old Slimpsey moved into the place.”
“You shall not make light of her religion, Thomas Jefferson,” says I, pretty severely.