That made me mad. Says I:
“Mistur Gaskins, I thank you for none of your insults. If you had any sense you would know that I am dressed in the latest fashion.”
Then I explained to him that bloomers were all the go, and that I had made mine arter the style of my party—arter the Dimicratic State platform of Ohio and the Dimicratic county platform of Tuscarawas County—one gold, the other silver. Says I:
“Dont you see, Jobe, in this garb we ketch em a comin and we ketch em a goin.”
Says he: “Betsy, do you intend to wear them things all fall?”
“I do,” says I.
“Hello, mistur!”
He studied a minit. Then, lookin at me determined like, says he:
