“Mis' Green has got a kind of beans without any strings,” said Amanda. “She brought me over some the other day, an' they were about the best I ever eat.”
“Well, I know there is a kind without strings,” returned Mrs. Babcock; “but I ain't got none in my garden, an' I never shall have. It ain't my lot to have things come easy. Seems as if it got hotter an' hotter. Why don't you open your front door?”
“Jest as sure as I do, the house will be swarmin' with flies.”
“You'd ought to have a screen-door. I made Adoniram make me one five years ago, an' it's a real nice one; but I know, of course, you ain't got nobody to make one for you. Once in a while it seems as if men folks come in kinder handy, an' they'd ought to, when women work an' slave the way I do to fill 'em up. Mebbe some time when Adoniram ain't drove, I could get him to make a door for you. Mebbe some time next winter.”
“I s'pose it would be nice,” replied Amanda. “You're real kind to offer, Mis' Babcock.”
“Well, I s'pose women that have men folks to do for 'em ought to be kind of obligin' sometimes to them that ain't. I'll see if I can get Adoniram to make you a screen-door next winter. Seems to me it does get hotter an' hotter. For the land sakes, Amanda Pratt! what are you cuttin' that great hole in that stockin' heel for? Are you crazy?”
Amanda colored. “The other stockin's got a hole in it,” said she, “an' I'm makin' 'em match.”
“Cuttin' a great big hole in a stockin' heel on purpose to darn? Mandy Pratt, you ain't?”
“I am,” replied Amanda, with dignity.
“Well, if you ain't a double and twisted old maid!” gasped Mrs. Babcock.