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She got hers when Gramma Mason first hurt her back, so's if anything happened she'd be part mournin', an' if anything didn't, she'd have a nice dress to wear out places. Ain't it real convenient, white standin' for both companies an' the tomb, so?" And "Mis' Photographer Sturgis has the best of it, bein' an invalid, till a party comes up," said Libbie Liberty.
She was so poor that she never had cookies or cakes to send her neighbors, and it kind o' cut her, because in the country we was always sendin' some little thing we'd been bakin' to each other, because that's about the only kind of presents country women can make to each other, somethin' they make themselves. "So Mis' Sweet felt kind o' bad that she couldn't make no return.
There ain't been nobody here this long spell, an' they've aged a sight since they come. They always send down a taste out of your baskets, Mis' Trimble, an' I relish it, I tell you. I'll shut the door after you, if you don't object. I feel every draught o' cold air." "I've always heard she was a great hand to make a poor mouth.
Wiley possessed the gift of gathering recondite bits of news, he had confidence in his topics and in his manner of dealing with them; and Edward, pretending to be entertained, went so far in his politeness as to ask Mr. Wiley if he had had supper. "I don't care if I sample one of Mis' Bumpus's doughnuts," Mr.
The Powers went out, the old woman still talking, chattering, as if anything mattered now. After they were gone, Agnes ran to the door calling, "Mis' Powers! You forgot your pan and towel after all!" And there was Mrs. Powers again, talking, talking. She had been saying something that needed an answer apparently, for now she stood waiting, expectant. "What was that, Mrs. Powers?
Dawson to alight, then Frank Hansard and Jennie Wynn came in and sat on the bench just behind him. Jennie was laughing in her handkerchief. "There is old Mis' Henshaw," she whispered to Frank; "she's the'r regular stan'-by at shouting. When they begin to call up mourners she commences to clap 'er hands an' shout, then the rest get over their bashfulness an' the fun begins.
"I was just a thinkin," said Barby; "Mis' Douglass sent round to know if Mis' Rossitur would like a piece of fresh meat Earl's been killing a sheep there's a nice quarter, she says, if she'd like to have it." "A quarter of mutton?" said Fleda, "I don't know no, I think not, Barby; I don't know when we should be able to pay it back again.
"Dat's what Ah tole Mis' Farley when she was down talkin' about yo' dis mornin'. She said if he was yo' husban' he might do somethin' to help yo' out. Ah tole her Ah didn't think yo' had any husban'. Den she says yo' ought to have one, yo're so pretty." Laura laughed. "Don't be so foolish, Annie." Noticing that she had left the room door ajar, the negress went and banged it shut.
"Does this chimney draw?" asked the practical Clover; "and does the kitchen stove bake well?" "First-rate. I've seen Mis Starkey take her biscuits out many a time, as nice a brown as ever you'd want; and the chimney don't smoke a mite. They kep' a wood fire here in May most all the time, so I know." Clover thought the matter over for a day or two, consulted with Dr.
He's brought up some men and we've talked ourselves hoarse trying to figger out a charity that ain't a charity. By the way, what is your husband?" "He is a banker." "Now, that's jest the thing. Bring him over some night and we'll git 'em all together and have a real talk about it all. Tell him what I'm tryin' to do. No I'll send Dr. Eaton to talk with him. I like your husband, Mis' Carrington.
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