Mrs. B. I’ve been thinking the thing all over in my mind, and I reckon—now I don’t say it is so, for I don’t know nothing at all about it—but I reckon that one o’ them men was a woman dress’d in men’s clothes; for I’ve often hearn o’ women doin’ them things, and following their True-love to the wars, and bein’ a watin’-boy to ’em and all sich.
The ladies here took leave of Ned’s marvellous story, drew themselves closely round the fire, lighted their pipes, and proceeded as follows:
Mrs. B. Jist before me and my old man was married, there was a gal name Nancy Mountcastle (puff—puff), and she was a mighty likely gal—(puff), I know’d her mighty well—she dressed herself up in men’s clothes—(puff, puff), and followed Jemmy Darden from P’ankatank, in King and Queen—(puff), clean up to Loudon.
Mrs. S. (puff, puff, puff, puff, puff.) And did he marry her?
Mrs. B. (sighing deeply.) No: Jemmy didn’t marry her—pity he hadn’t, poor thing.
Mrs. R. Well, I know’d a gal on Tar River, done the same thing—(puff, puff, puff.) She followed Moses Rusher ’way down somewhere in the South State—(puff, puff.)
Mrs. S. (puff, puff, puff, puff.) And what did he do?
Mrs. R. Ah—(puff, puff,) Lord bless your soul, honey, I can’t tell you what he did. Bad enough.
Mrs. B. Well, now it seems to me—I don’t know much about it—but it seems to me men don’t like to marry gals that take on that way. It looks like it puts ’em out o’ concait of ’em.
Mrs. S. I know’d one man that married a woman that followed him from Car’lina to this State; but she didn’t dress herself in men’s clothes. You both know ’em. You know Simpson Trotty’s sister and Rachel’s son, Reuben. ’Twas him and his wife.