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Updated: June 28, 2025
Primmie's equipment of Cape Cod slang and idiom, rather full and complete of itself, had of late been amplified and complicated by a growing acquaintance with the new driver of the grocery cart, a young man of the world who had spent two hectic years in Brockton, where, for a portion of the time, he worked in a shoe factory.
And so when Primmie, in tears, came again that afternoon to beg to be retained in service, Martha consented to try to maintain the present arrangement for a few weeks more, at least. "Although the dear land knows I shouldn't, Primmie," she said. "It's just postponin' what is almost sure to come, and that isn't right for either of us." Primmie's grin extended from ear to ear.
By the second week the talk's all run out of you, like molasses out of a hogshead. Then you set and think." "I see. And so much thinking tends to bring out ah philosophy, I suppose." "Huh! Maybe so. So much settin' wears out overalls, I know that." Primmie interrupted. "I've got it!" she cried, enthusiastically. "I know now!" Galusha started nervously. Primmie's explosiveness was disturbing.
There was a brisk, cool wind blowing and Miss Martha cautioned him against catching cold. She insisted upon his wrapping a scarf of her own, muffler fashion, about his neck beneath his coat collar and lent him a pair of mittens they were Primmie's property to put on in case his hands were cold. He had one kid glove in his pocket, but only one. "Dear me!" he said.
She uttered her first preliminary groan. Cousin Gussie, being an unsophisticated stranger, was startled, as Mr. Bangs had been at the former seance, but Primmie's whisper reassured him. "It's all right," whispered Primmie. "She ain't sick nor nothin'. She's just a-slippin' off." The banker did not understand. "Slipping off?" he repeated. "Off what?" "Off into sperit land.
You haven't tried much of Primmie's cookin' yet.... Oh, by the way, what IS your business, Mr. Bangs?" "I am an archaeologist." "Yes oh yes.... A a what, did you say?" "An archaeologist. I specialize principally in Egyptology." "Oh.... Oh, yes." "Yes." "Yes.... Well, I must run out to the kitchen now. Make yourself right at home, Mr. Bangs."
Lucy an animal as misnamed as Primmie's "Aunt Lucifer" instead of slumbering peacefully and respectably in his cushioned box in the kitchen, which had been his custom of winter nights, now refused to come in at bedtime, ignored his mistress' calls altogether, and came rolling home in the morning with slit ears and scarred hide and an air of unrepentant and dissipated abandon.
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