Miss Affy prayed every day, “Use me, Lord, any way, any where.”
“With that dress on?” said Mrs. Finch, regarding the new spring suit with favor. “I couldn’t help looking at you in church, if it was Sunday, and thinking that you looked sweet enough to be a bride.”
“Thank you. I am fond of this dress,” replied Miss Affy in her simple, sweet way.
“When you are married, you must be married in gray. I was married in white. Thirty years ago.”
“I remember it,” said Miss Affy, “Cephas and I were there.”
“Don’t think about the dishes. It’s just like you.”
“I would more than think about them, but I must call on Nettie, and then I promised to read awhile to Mrs. Trembly; she is more blind than she was, and Agnes breaks her heart because she cannot find more time to read to her and amuse her.”
“They should come before dishes. People first, I say. That’s why I’m behind with my washing. People first, I say to Jonas, and he looks scornful. But it will pay some day.”
“You have not a catalogue?”
“A seed catalogue? We’ve never had a call for that. I thought everybody had one.”