I see, on lookin’ closer at her, what made her look so oncommon curius. She had tried to dress sort o’ bridy, and at the same time was a-mournin’ for Doodle. (She never will get that man out of her head, I don’t believe.)
She said she “didn’t want to hurt Solemen’s feelin’s. She put on the white bobbinet lace to please Cypher. But,” says she, “though Solemen don’t mistrust it, my black bead collar and jest half of my weddin’ dress means Doodle.”
It was a black and white lawn, with big, even checks. The skirt was gathered in full all round, and it was made plain waist. It sot pretty well, only it drawed in acrost the chest. (She made it herself and cut it too narrer.) She had a shawl with a palm-leaf border, that she had when she married Doodle; and a Leghorn bonnet that she wore on the same occasion. It came over her face considerable, and had a bunch of artifishel flowers on each side of her face. Her veil was made out of an old white lace cape of her’n, but the edgin’ round it was new—four cents a yard, for she told me so. And she had a pair of new white gloves, No. 7, purchased with a view to their shrinkin’ in the future, and a white cotton handkerchief. But she told me (in strict confidence,) that she had got a black pocket to her dress, and she had on a new pair of black elastic garters. Says she, “I cannot forget Doodle. I never can forget that dear man.” I knew she couldn’t.
Solemen seemed to use her pretty middlin’ well, only I could see that he felt above her feerfully. He acted dretful domineerin’, and seemed to feel very, very haughty toward wimmin. He looked down on us awfully as a race, and said we should both probably get hurt before we left the ground.
He and Josiah went out to look at some cattle for a few moments, and the widder, bein’ very talkative, told me all about her courtships. I says to her:
“Widder, I believe you mean well, but how under the sun could you marry a man six weeks after his wife died?”
“Wall,” says she, “Solemen said that the corpse wouldn’t be no deader than it was then, if he waited three or four months, as some men did.”
“And,” says she, “he asked me to have him in a dretful handsome way,” says she. “‘The Children of the Abbey,’ or ‘Thadeus of Warsaw,’ nor none of ’em, couldn’t have done it up in any more romantic and foamin’ way.” Says she, “The way on’t wus, I had been to see his housekeeper, and he was bringin’ me home, and I wus a praisin’ up his wagon and horses—a new double wagon with a spring seat,—and all of a suddent he spoke out, in a real ardent and lover like tone:
“‘Widder Doodle! if you will be my bride, the wagon is your’n, and the mares,’ says he. ‘Widder, I throw myself onto your feet, and I throw the wagon, and the mares, and with them I throw eighty-five acres of good land, fourteen cows, five calves, four three-year-olds and a yearlin’; a dwellin’-house, a new horse-barn, and myself. I throw ’em all onto your feet, and there we lay on ’em.’