“Let ’em wither.”
But I see I must come out still more plainer, or she would make a public circus of herself, and says I pushin’ her into a corner, and standin’ up in front of her, so as to shet off the audience from her face, for she was a cryin’, and she did indeed look ghostly,
“Betsey Bobbet the gazelle is married, and their hain’t no use in your follerin’ on that trail no longer. Now,” says I, “take your bunnet and go home, and collect yourself together. And,” says I, generously “I will go with you as far as the door.”
So I got her started off, as quick, and as quiet as I could, and I guess there wasn’t mor’n seven men and 14 wimmen that asked me as I came back in,
“If it was the Editer of the Augur, that Betsey was a cryin’ about, and if I ever see such a idiot in my life?”
I answered ’em in a kind of blind way, and it broke up pretty soon.
BETSEY SEEKS RELIEF.
When Josiah and me went home, as we passed Mr. Bobbet’ses, I looked up into Betsey’s winder which fronted the road, and I see Betsey set by her table a writin’. Her lips were firmly closed and she was a cryin’, her cheeks looked holler and I knew that her teeth was out, so I felt that she was writin’ poetry. I was right, for in the next weeks Gimlet these verses came out. These lines was wrote on to the top of ’em: