“Oh!” says she, “I have read your eloquent orations on wimmin’ havin’ a right. I am happy to make your acquaintance.” Then and there I introduced Betsey.
Says she, “Did you call to see Miss Woodhull?”
“Yes,” says I, “I wanted to talk to her, for she is in the wrong, but she haint to home.”
Says she, “she is to home, and you shall see her, a few friends of the cause, have met here to-day, but they are about all gone.” She went right up the doorsteps agin, and instead of knockin’, she ketched holt of that silver nob, that Betsey had been a foolin’ with. Mary was so excited that she didn’t really know what she was about, or else she would have made some move towards gettin’ in to the house. But it was jest as well, for that impudent faced little Black African happened to come to the door agin jest at the right time. And she spoke up kinder sharp like,
“Show these ladies into the parlor, they are friends of mine, and Miss Woodhull will be glad to see ’em.”
He looked as if he would sink, and I didn’t care if he did, clear through to the suller. I should have been glad to have seen him sunk.
I looked severe at him after I had gripped Mary’s hand, and parted with her. He held the door open awful polite, and in a kind of a apoligy way he murtered somethin’ about,
“Sposin’ Miss Woodhull was engaged.”
Says I pretty sharp, “Sposin’ she is engaged, is that any reason you should turn Betsey and me out doors?” Says I, “I didn’t keep our folks’es doors locked up when I got engaged to Josiah.” Says I, “sposen’ Miss Woodhull is engaged, she ought to have been engaged, and married, years ago.”
I was in the wrong, and I see it, and ketched holt of my principles convulsively, for I see that my indignant emotions towards that little lyin’ imp was a shakin’ ’em. I hadn’t no right to be a speakin’ aginst the woman of the house to their hired help. I felt as mean as pusley to think I had done it, and says I, mildly,