“Wall, if you haint heerd me, it is because you are deef,” sez he.
But that is jest the way he kep’ on, a hurryin’ me along, and a talkin’ fast to try to get the price of that picture out of my head. Anon, and sometimes oftener, we would come to the word in big letters on signs, or on the fence, or the sides of barns, “Pray.” And sometimes it would read, “Pray for my wife!” And Josiah every time he came to the words would stop and reflect on ’em.
“‘Pray!’ What business is it of yourn, whether I pray or not? ‘Pray for my wife!’ That haint none of your business.”
Sez he, a shakin’ his fist at the fence, “’Taint likely I should have a wife without prayin’ for her. She needs it bad enough,” sez he once, as he stood lookin’ at it.
I gin him a strange look, and he sez, “You wouldn’t like it, would you, if I didn’t pray for you?”
“No,” sez I, “and truly as you say, the woman who is your wife needs prayer, she needs help, morn half the time she duz.”
He looked kinder dissatisfied at the way I turned it, but he sez, “‘Plumbin’ done here!’”
“I’d love to know where they are goin’ to plum. I don’t see no sign of plum trees, nor no stick to knock ’em off with.” And agin he sez, “You would make a great ‘fuss, Samantha, if I should say what is painted up right there on that cross piece. You would say I wuz a swearin’.”
Sez I coldly, (or as cold as I could with my blood heated by the voyalence and rapidity of the walk he had been a leadin’ me,) “There is a Van in front of it. Van Dam haint swearin’.”
“You would say it wuz if I used it,” sez he reproachfully. “If I should fall down on the ice, or stub my toe, and trip up on the meetin’ house steps, and I should happen to mention the name of that street about the same time, you would say I wuz a swearin’.”