Says I to myself, “It can't be the fault of the place, anyway. They have got a chance for their souls to soar if they want to.” Thinks'es I, here is room and to spare, to pass by laws big as elephants and camels. And I wondered to myself that they should ever try to pass laws and resolutions as small as muskeeters and nats. Thinks'es I, I wonder them little laws don't get to strollin' round and get lost in them magnificent corriders. But I consoled myself a thinkin' that it wouldn't be no great loss if they did.
But right here, as I was a thinkin' on these deep and lofty subjects, the hired man spoke up; and says he,—
“You look fatigued, mom.” (Soarin' even to yourself, is tuckerin'.) “You look very fatigued: won't you take something?”
I looked at him with a curious, silent sort of a look; for I didn't know what he meant.
Agin he looked close at me, and sort o' pityin'; and says he, “You look tired out, mom. Won't you take something?”
Says I, “What?”
Says he, “Let me treat you to something: what will you take, mom?”
Wall, I thought he was actin' dretful liberal; but I knew they had strange ways there in Washington, anyway. And I didn't know but it was their way to make some presents to every woman who come there: and I didn't want to be odd, and act awkward, and out of style; so I says,—
“I don't want to take any thing, and I don't see any reason why you should insist on it. But, if I have got to take something I had jest as lives have a few yards of factory-cloth as any thing.”