While I was a sayin all this Jobe was a lookin at me, a starin, turnin on his seat, spittin in the fire, crossin fust one leg, then another, waitin for me to stop. I seen he was teched; so, when I had done, I sot back in my cheer, and begin to knit, and waited for what was a comin. He begun slowly, but warmed up as he proceeded. Says he:
“Betsy, I have lived with you for nigh onto thirty-five years; we have allers lived in peace, though you was a Dimicrat and I was a Republican; we have had our sorrows and our hardships, and now, arter all these years of peace, am I to pass the last days of my life with a pardner who is allers talkin like them blamed Populists? You know, Betsy Gaskins, that I am a Republican and expect to die one. I believe that all the laws made by the Republicans are just laws. If they made laws to lend the banker money at one per cent. it must stand, and I will try to bear my burden, though I have to pay six per cent. interest or more, if need be, for the same money. Betsy, you must stop readin them papers. I never look into one; they jist start a feller to thinkin, and the fust thing he knows he dont believe a thing he has been a believin all his life. It ruins a feller’s perlitical principles. If a feller is a Republican, he should be one and never read anything to cause him to think. Them Populists, Betsy, is jist made up of a lot of storekeepers and farmers, and men who work in shops and mills and coal-banks and sich places. They dont know anything about makin laws, or money or bizness. Our law-makers, Betsy, should be lawyers and bankers and rich business men and sich.”
Well, I jist saw it was no use argyin with him, but I thought I would have the last word, as I allers do, and says I:
“Well, Jobe Gaskins, if you ignorant farmers haint fit to make the laws to fix the taxes you pay; if you farmers haint fit to make the laws to govern yourselves; if you farmers haint fit to transact the bizness in which you should be most interested, I think you ort to begin to prepare yourselves until you are fit, by readin what hasent been done for you that ort to have been done, and what has been done agin you that hadent ort to been done.”
“‘Talkin like them blame Populists’.”
At that, bein ready, I skipped into the bed-room and in a twinkle was in bed with the kivers drawed up over my head. If Jobe said any more I heard it not. In a few minits I was asleep, where I must soon be agin.
CHAPTER III.
JOBE SLEEPS IN THE SPARE BED. THE DREAM.
THAT nite arter I had got into bed and kivered up my head, I went to sleep and waked not until broad daylite. Imagine my surprise, when I waked, to find that durin all that long nite I had been the sole okepant of that bed. The piller on which Jobe, my dear husband, had slept for over thirty-four years had not been teched that nite, and, for the fust time in thirty-five years next corn-huskin, Betsy Gaskins had slept alone. I felt skeert. I felt as though some awful calamity had or would occur to me.
With a heavy heart I ariz and put on my skirts, all the time feelin as if I was about to choke. Everything was silent and still about the house. Could it be possible that my dear Jobe had dide or been kidnapped, or what? I hurried into the room—no Jobe there. I went into the kitchen—no Jobe there. I hastened to the spare bed-room. The door was closed. I stopped. I rubbed my hands together, studyin what to do, all a trimblin. Certainly the dead and lifeless corpse of my dear husband was in there cold in death, drivin to it of course by the cruel words of his lovin wife. There I stood stock still, not knowin what to do. I must have stood there some three or four minits until I came to myself. All at onct I says, says I, out loud: “Betsy Gaskins, what are you about? Haint you allers been looked upon as a woman of good jedgement and feerless in the face of disaster?” At that I marched up to the door and flung it open.