Maggie and Thomas J. had met him in Washington the winter before, and they sort o’ took to each other. And so he wuz a goin’ to stop off a few days with ’em.
Wall, that program of Josiah Allen’s wuz carried out to the very letter. When Thomas J. and Maggie come back (the Senator didn’t come, he wuz delayed, and sent a telegram he should be there in a week or two), we sot off, a preparin’ to come back the next day if John Richard wuz better, but a layin’ out to stay several days if necessary.
We took clothes and things, and I a not forgettin’, you may be sure, a bottle full of my far-famed spignut syrup.
Maggie see that we had a early dinner but a good one, and we sot sail about one o’clock—Snow a ridin’ with us as fur as we dasted to take her, and a walkin’ back agin, watched by her Ma from the gate.
Thomas J. and Maggie told us to bring John Richard right back with us if he wuz well enough to come, and they would help take care of him.
Wall, we got to the picturesque little place called Howletts Bridge about four o’clock, and imegiatly made inquiries for the relation on his side, and found out where he wuz stayin’.
He wuz boardin’ with a likely Methodist Episcopal couple, elderly, and poor but well-principled.
And indeed we found him sick enough.
Miss Elderkin—that wuz the folkses name he wuz a boardin’ with, good creeters as I ever see, if they wuz Southerners, and aristocratic too, brung down by loss of property and etc.—she told me that Cousin John Richard had been comin’ down with this lung difficulty for years—overwork, and hard fare, and neglect of his own comfort makin’ his sickness harder and more difficult to manage.