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"Good land o' Goshen!" screamed Granny. "If you ain't the worst I ever see. I'll bet that's my grapevine plate. If it is-well, of all the mercies, it ain't! But it naight 'a' ben. I never see your beat-never! That's the third plate since I came to live here." "Oh, look-a-here, Granny," said Will desperately. "Don't make so much fuss about the plate. What's it worth, anyway? Here's a dollar."
"You don't mean to tell me that no young fellow comes prowling around-" "Oh, a young Dutchrnan or Norwegian once in a while. Nobody that counts. Fact is, we're getting like Boston-four women to one man; and when you consider that we're getting more particular each year, the outlook is-well, it's dreadful!" "It certainly is." "Marriage is a failure these days for most of us.
They were silent for a time, but it seemed plain to him that it was not evidence that his question had demoralised them. They seemed to be deliberating upon the form of answer. Ultimately Peter Tounley coughed behind his hand. " You see, sir," he began, " there is-well, there is a woman in the case. Not that anybody would care to speak of it excepting to you.
But that is what is the cause of things, and then, you see, Mrs. Wainwright is-well-" He hesitated a moment and then completed his sentence in the ingenuous profanity of his age and condition. " She is rather an extraordinary old bird." " But who is the woman ? "Why, it is Nora Blaick, the actress." "Oh," cried the minister, enlightened. " Her Why, I saw her here.
His mind, Madame Montford verily believes stuck in a fog. "We must wait a bit," says the old man, his face seeming to elongate. "You can look about-there's not much to be seen, and what there is-well, it's not the finest." Mr. Saddlerock shuffles his feet, and then shuffles himself into a small side room.
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