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"I ain't doin' nothin' to him. Lord of Isrul, no! But, Miss Martha, what started him to singin' all to once? If 'twas somebody else but him and I didn't know the cherry rum was all gone, I " "What? What's that? How did you know the cherry rum was all gone?" Primmie blinked and swallowed hard. "Why er why er Miss Martha," she stammered, "I I just happened to find it out er sort of by accident.
"Go away, Primmie! Go AWAY!" "I'm a-goin'. But was there?" "Yes ah no I I guess so." "Lord everlastin' of Isrul! My savin' soul!" Martha's footsteps on the stairs caused the head to disappear and the door to close. Miss Phipps appeared, her hand clasping a highly ornate document. "Here's the certificate," she said, breathlessly.
She had a saucer in one hand and a dishcloth in the other. "Yes'm," she said, "here I be." Then, seeing the prone figure upon the sofa, she exclaimed fervently, "Oh, my Lord of Isrul! Who's that?" "Now don't stand there swearin' and askin' questions, but do as I tell you. You go to the " "But but what AILS him? Is he drunk?" "Drunk? What put such a notion as that in your head?
I told Isrul I'd set it in the stable door so's he could git that steer out o' the way immejate." The proposal to lay the mottoes aside was a master-stroke. The aggrieved wife had already begun to wipe her hands on her apron. Still, she would not seem too easily appeased. Thus she guarded her dignity. But even as she spoke she took the parcel from his hands. This was encouragement enough.
Primmie's exclamations, "My savin' soul" and "My Lord of Isrul" became more and more frequent. Mr. Bloomer interjected a remark here and there. At length a sound outside caused him to look out of the window. "Here comes the old man and Martha," he said. "Cal'late I'd better be gettin' back aboard. Can't leave Lulie to tend light all the time. Much obliged to you, Mr. Bangs.
"Eh?" queried Galusha, peering out between the earlaps of his cap. "Eh? What did you say, Primmie?" "I say Miss Martha wants to see you a minute. She's in there a-waitin'. I bet you she's goin' to tell you about it. Hurry! hurry!" "Tell me?... About what?" "Why, about what 'tis that's worryin' her so. About that Raish Pulcifer and all the rest of it.... Oh, my Lord of Isrul!
"Laws, honey," the old woman would reply, "I aint hankerin' arter any ob dis new book larnin'. I's a heap too old fer 'rithmertic an' 'stology. I jes' keeps to de plain Bible dat served de chillen of Isrul in de wilderness.
"Miss Martha, Zach he says we've all hands got to come right straight off, 'cause if we don't there'll be hell to pay.... My savin' soul, I never meant to say that, Miss Martha! Zach, he said it, but I never meant to. I I Oh, my Lord of Isrul! I I oh, Miss Martha!" Further wails of the frightened and repentant one were lost in an ecstatic shout of laughter from Mr. Cabot.
"We-ll," he observed, "I really I can't say. I never met the lady." "What difference does that make? If a dead woman come and stood alongside of MY bed 'twouldn't make no difference to me whether I'd MET her or not. Meetin' of her then would be enough. My Lord of Isrul!" "Oh oh, I beg your pardon. Do I understand you to say that this ah gentleman's wife is dead?" "Um-hm.
So upset was the lady of the house that she involuntarily called out, "You Isrul!" "Ma'am," came in a frightened voice from under the bed, then in whining tones, "I dun try to mek 'em hush up, but 'pears like Mass Debbel be on dey side, anyhow." Further concealment being impossible, I said, "Come, you have the chickens ready caught, I'll give you your own price for them."
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