They ort to be ashamed of themselves.
And then the Lion’s Mouth, where the papers accusin’ folks wuz dropped by the people. The paper dropped down into a chest so’s the wicked old Ten could git holt of ’em.
Miserable creeters! I’d love to gin ’em a piece of my mind.
But Josiah wuz all took up with the idee; sez he—
“How convenient, how charmin’ it would be to have a complainin’ box rigged up in the barn over the manger or by the side of the haymow, so when I wanted to complain of Ury I wouldn’t have to jaw him and have him sass back! How much easier it would be than jawin’! He’d like it better, too. And you can have one, Samantha, to complain of Philury; you could jest drop ’em in, and then you wouldn’t have to tell ’em over to me when she wuz wasteful or slack, or acted. Jest put ’em down on paper, drop ’em into the box, and nobody but Philury would be the wiser.”
Sez I, “Do you spoze I’m a-goin’ to be feelin’ round writin’ complaints while a batch of cookies are bein’ spilte, or a lot of good vittles throwed to the hens? No, indeed! My tongue is good yet, and active.”
“Yes, indeed, it is!” sez he with a deep groan (I d’no what he meant by it).
“But,” sez he, “it would be good for it to rest a spell, and it would be a good thing for me, anyway, specially nights when I wuz sleepy,” and agin he sighed (he acted like a fool).
“And if you say so,” sez he, “we could have one rigged up together for both on us—we ort to be able to complain of our hired man and woman in one complainin’ box. We might have it over our back door, or on the smoke-house.”
But I waived off his idee, and mebby he gin it up, and mebby, agin, he’ll try to rig up some contrivance that won’t do no good, and take time and money.