But if I felt meachin’ over one heathen, or, that is, if I felt embarrassed a-showin’ him off before the bretheren and sistern, what would I felt if Josiah had had his way about comin’ to meetin’ that day?
Little did them bretheren and sistern know what I’d been through that mornin’.
Josiah wore his gay dressin’-gown down to breakfast, which I bore well, although it wuz strange—strange to have two men with dresses on a-settin’ on each side of me to the table—I who had always been ust to plain vests and pantaloons and coats on the more opposite sex.
But I bore up under it well, and didn’t say nothin’ aginst it, and poured out the coffee and passed the buckwheat cakes and briled chicken and etc. with a calm face.
But when church-time come, and Ury brought the mair and democrat up to the door, and I got up on to the back seat, when I turned and see Josiah Allen come out with that rep dressin’-gown on, trimmed with bright red, and them bright tossels a-hangin’ down in front, and a plug hat on, you could have knocked me down with a pin feather.
And sez I sternly, “What duz this mean, Josiah Allen?”
Sez he, “I am a-goin’ to wear this to meetin’, Samantha.”
“To meetin’?” sez I almost mekanically.
“Yes,” sez he; “I am a-doin’ it out of compliments to Fazer; he would feel queer to be the only man there with a dress on, and so I thought I would keep him company; and,” sez he, a-fingerin’ the tossels lovin’ly, “this costoom is very dressy and becomin’ to me, and I’d jest as leave as not let old Bobbett and Deacon Garvin see me appearin’ in it,” sez he.
“Do you go and take that off this minute, Josiah Allen! Why, they’d call you a idiot and as crazy as a loon!”