And after he had his warm slippers on, and got sot down in his easy-chair opposite to his beloved companion, he grew calmer again, and more placider, and drawed out that letter from his pocket.
And I sot there a knittin', and a watchin' my companion's face at the same time; and I see that as he read the letter, he looked smut, and sort o' wonder-struck: and says I,—
“Who is your letter from, Josiah Allen?”
And he says, lookin' up on top of it,—
“It is from the headquarters of the Railroad Company;” and says he, lookin' close at it agin, “As near as I can make out, it is a free pass for me to ride on the railroad.”
Says I, “Why, that can't be, Josiah Allen. Why should they give you a free pass?”
“I don't know,” says he. “But I know it is one. The more I look at it,” says he, growin' excited over it,—“the more I look at it, the plainer I can see it. It is a free pass.”
Says I, “I don't believe it, Josiah Allen.”
“Wall, look at it for yourself, Samantha Allen” (when he is dretful excited, he always calls me Samantha Allen), “and see what it is, if it hain't that;” and he throwed it into my lap.