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Updated: May 8, 2025
"How old was your baby?" "Three days when it died." "It's very hard when we must give our husbands and wives to the Lord," said Tant Sannie. "Very," said the young man; "but it's the Lord's will." "Yes," said Tant Sannie, and sighed. "She was such a good wife, aunt: I've known her break a churn-stick over a maid's head for only letting dust come on a milk cloth."
Through the thin wooden partition there arose at that instant, evidently from some creature ensconced there, a prolonged and prodigious howl, followed by a succession of violent blows against the partition wall. The German seized the churn-stick, and was about to rush round the house, when the Boer-woman impressively laid her hand upon his arm.
"That is his head," said Tant Sannie, "that is his head." "But what might it be?" asked the German, looking from one to the other, churn-stick in hand. A low hollow bellow prevented reply, and the voice of Bonaparte lifted itself on high. "Mary-Ann! my angel! my wife!" "Isn't it dreadful?" said Tant Sannie, as the blows were repeated fiercely. "He has got a letter; his wife is dead.
Tant Sannie felt a twinge of jealousy. She had never broken a churn-stick on a maid's head. "I hope your wife made a good end," she said. "Oh, beautiful, aunt: she said up a psalm and two hymns and a half before she died." "Did she leave any messages?" asked Tant Sannie. "No," said the young man; "but the night before she died I was lying at the foot of her bed; I felt her foot kick me.
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