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Updated: July 27, 2025
This was said very coaxingly. "Oh, pray don't trouble yourself. What next?" I was anxious to see how far her impudence would go, and determined to affront her if possible. "I want you to lend me a gown, and a pair of stockings. I have to go to Oswego to see my husband's sister, and I'd like to look decent." "Mrs. Fye, I never lend my clothes to any one.
'Thou need'st not go to Molly for that, cousin. I will believe thee. Only tell me what thou wouldst have me believe, and I will believe it. What! think'st thou I am not magician enough to know whom to believe and whom not? Fye, fye, mistress! Thou, on thy part, wilt not put faith in thy cousin Herbert!
I am out of breath: Confusion's near! I cannot speak: you tribunes To the people. Coriolanus, patience: Speak, good Sicinius. Sic. Hear me, people; Peace. Cit. Let's hear our tribune: Peace, Speak, speak, speak. Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties, Marcius would have all from you; Marcius Whom late you have named for consul. Men. Fye, fye, fye. That is the way to kindle, not to quench.
I had plenty of apples, and I gladly accepted her offer, and Mrs. Betty Fye departed, elated with the success of her expedition. I found to my cost, that, once admitted into the house, there was no keeping her away. She borrowed everything that she could think of, without once dreaming of restitution. I tried all ways of affronting her, but without success.
She was alone; her movements showed decision; her eyes were flashing; her face was flushed with indignation. She went straight for the officer, seized the bridle close to the horse's mouth, and wheeled him about, vociferating, "Fye on ye, man; rye on ye; the vengeance of God will overtake you for marring so good a work." The officer was dazed as by an exploding shell. The woman was his own sister.
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