“I don't think Dorlesky is unreasonable in her demands, only in the length of time she has set.”
Says I, “That is jest what I told Dorlesky. I didn't believe you could do her errents this week. But you can see for yourself that she is right, only in the time she has sot.”
“Yes,” he said. “He see she wuz.” And says he, “I wish the 3 could be reconciled.”
“What 3?” says I.
Says he, “The liquor traffic, liberty, and Dorlesky.”
And then come the very hardest part of my errent. But I had to do it, I had to.
Says I, in the deep, solemn tones befitting the threat, for I wuzn't the woman to cheat Dorlesky when she was out of sight, and use the wrong tones at the wrong times—no, I used my deepest and most skairful one—says I, “Dorlesky told me to tell you that if you didn't do her errent, you should not be the next President of the United States.”
He turned pale. He looked agitated, fearful agitated.
I s'pose it was not only my words and tone that skairt him, but my mean. I put on my noblest mean; and I s'pose I have got a very noble, high-headed mean at times. I got it, I think, in the first place, by overlookin' Josiah's faults. I always said a wife ort to overlook her husband's faults; and I have to overlook so many, that it has made me about as high-headed, sometimes, as a warlike gander, but more sort o' meller-lookin', and sublime, kinder.
He stood white as a piece of a piller-case, and seemin'ly plunged down into the deepest thought. But finally he riz part way out of it, and says he,—