“You did,” said Mrs. Jeffries (she had come out of her house); “and I am pleased to notice no damage has been done to our fence—this time.”
“It would have been fixed right up at my expense, as always, Mrs. Jeffries,” retorted her neighbor, and started to keep abreast of Mrs. Jeffries as that lady walked and inspected the fence. Thus the two marched parallel along the frontier to the rear of their respective territories.
“You'll not resign?” said Stuart to me. “It is 'yours till death,' ain't it?”
I told him that it was.
“About once a month I can expect this,” said Mrs. Jeffries, returning along her frontier.
“Well, it's not the only case in Sharon, Mrs. Jeffries,” said Mrs. Mattern. “I'll remind you of them three coops when you kept poultry, and they got away across the railroad, along with the barber's shop.”
“But cannot we help you get it out?” said I, with a zealous wish for peace.
“You are very accommodating, sir,” said Mrs. Mattern.
“One of the prize-awarding committee,” said Stuart. “An elegant judge of oratory. Has decided many contests at Concord, the home of Emerson.”
“Concord, New Hampshire,” I corrected; but neither lady heard me.