“And I shall most probable get it,” says I, groanin', “as long as I live with you. Now tell me at once, what you have done, Josiah Allen! I know it is your doin's.”
“Yes,” says he proudly, “yes, mom. Ury never would have thought of it, or Philury. I got it up myself, out of my own head. It is original, and I want the credit of it all myself.”
Says I faintly, “I guess you won't be troubled about gettin' a patent for it.” Says I, “What ever put it into your head to do such a thing as this?”
“Why,” says he, “I got to thinkin' of it on the way to the cars. Philury said she would love to go and see her sister in Buffalo; and Ury, of course, wanted to go and see his sister in Rochester. And I proposed to 'em that she should go first to Buffalo, and see her folks, and when she got back, he should go to Rochester, and see his folks. I told her that I needed Ury's help, and she could jest as well go alone as not, after we got her ticket. And then in a week or so, when she had got her visit made out, she could come back, and help do the chores, and tend to things, and Ury could go. Ury hung back at first. But she smiled, and said she would do it.”
I groaned aloud, “That clever little creeter! You have imposed upon her, and she has stood it.”
“Imposed upon her? I have made her a heroine.
“Folks will make as much agin of her. I don't believe any female ever done any thing like it before,—not in any novel, or any thing.”
“No,” I groaned. “I don't believe they ever did.”
“It will make her sought after. I told her it would. Folks will jest run after her, they will admire her so; and so I told her.”
Says I, “Josiah Allen, you did it because you didn't want to milk. Don't try to make out that you had a good motive for this awful deed. Oh, dear! how the neighbors will talk about it!”