The third day, whilst I wuz settin' happy and calm in my frame in my warm peaceful settin' room often liftin' my eyes contentedly to the satin smooth ceilin'.
What wuz my emotions of grief and horrow to see Josiah rise up, haul out his tin trunk where he'd carefuly stored away the plans of the St. Josiah Exposition, and go to studyin' 'em agin with renewed vigor, sayin':
"I hope to gracious I can have my mind clear now to go on and plan my
Exposition; this dum work has set me back turribly."
I let my work fall into my lap and gin vent to some sithes, so deep they wuz almost groans, whilst the bitter waters of disappintment trickled over my hopes and drownded 'em out. Had I got to go through another siege of argument and persuasion and extra vittles? Could my too hard worked oratory hold out, and also my provisions?
I see the children next day and told 'em how it wuz, that their Pa seemed more sot on his plan than ever, and talked more excited and earnest about it than I had ever seen him. For it did seem as if his deep ambitions dammed up for a time by furnaces and Jabezeses, had broke loose into a wider, deeper current than ever. He talked incessantly about it day and night, laid on his plans, and reached out onto new ones.
The children sez to me agin: "Mother, it must be stopped at all hazards!"
And agin I wep', and sez to 'em: "How can it be stopped?"
Tirzah Ann looked completely squelched and could do nothin' only weakly ask: "If I spozed I could git him to play on a accordeon, she kinder thought that some time she'd hearn of some man, somewhere havin' his mind soothed by one."
"Accordeon!" sez I. "You couldn't git his mind offen that plan if you gin him one of the golden harps we read about."
Tirzah Ann subsided, only sayin': "We would all be the town's talk, and it would probable kill her with mortification."