There wuz a skairful axent on the word “freeze” that seemed to bring all of Malviny’s sufferin’s right in front of me. But so strong is my common sense that even in that agitatin’ time I thought to myself, as I wiped the perspiration from my foretop, “Good land! what is Malviny made of to be even comfortable cool to say nothin’ of freezin’.” And my next thought wuz, “What sort of a place have I got into?” Truly, I had read much of the hardenin’ effects of fashion and style, but I little thought they would harden so fearful hard. None of these men and wimmen settin’ on them piazzas had gin any more attention to the blood-curdlin’ news that a feller creeter so nigh ’em wuz perishin’, no more than if they’d seen a summer leaf flutterin’ down from the boughs overhead.
I thought of the rich man and Lazarus, only kinder turned round and freezin’ instead of burnin’. I felt bad and queer. But anon he drew nigh the porch I wuz settin’ on and looked up into my face with the same harrowin’ statement, “Malviny is a-goin’ to freeze to-night!”
And I said, with goose pimples runnin’ down my back most as bad as I mistrusted as Malviny had, “Who is Malviny?” 64
He stopped and sez, “She is my wife.”
His indifferent mean madded me and I sez, “Well, you good-for-nothin’ snipe you, instead of traipsin’ all over the neighborhood tellin’ of your wife’s state, why hain’t you to home buildin’ a fire and heatin’ soap stuns and bricks, and steepin’ pepper tea?”
“What for?” sez he, amazed like.
“Why, to keep Malviny from freezin’.”
“I don’t want to stop it,” sez he.
Sez I, “Do you want your wife to freeze?”
“Yes,” sez he.