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Updated: May 23, 2025
Wetherell salt a churning of butter in the back porch, she said to me: "You mustn't mind Samanthy, she isn't quite right in her head: a good many years ago she had a sad blow." She hesitated; I disliked to ask her what it was, so I said "Poor woman!" "Yes," said her mother, "she is a poor soul. She was expecting to be married to Eben Johnson, a young man who worked on our new barn.
When I want to get anything done I can gen'ally spunk up sprawl enough to do it myself, thanks be!" "Wall now, Samanthy, you cheat the men-folks out of a heap o' pleasure bein' so all-fired independent, did ye know it? "'Tremblin' sinner, calm your fears! Jesus is always ready." "When 'd you see him last?" "I hain't seen him sence 'bout noon-time. Warn't he into supper?" "No.
"I ain't sayin' anything against the child, Samanthy Ann; you said yourself she wa'n't cut out for a Shaker!" "No more she is," laughed Samantha, when her good humor was restored. "She'd like the singin' 'n' dancin' well enough, but 't would be hard work smoothin' the kink out of her hair 'n' fixin' it under one o' their white Sunday bunnets.
Laban was awful good. He laughed and worked, but we couldn't make it. Times was too hard. I'd see Samanthy trailin' silks and satins in the dust, and and my underskirts was made o' flour sacks. Yes flour sacks! And me a Skenk!" She paused. Neither Ajax nor I spoke. Comedy lies lightly upon all things, like foam upon the dark waters. Beneath are tragedy and the tears of time.
A shuffling of feet on the stairs told that she had been heard, and presently the not unkindly face of Samanthy Hobbs made its way into the room. "Why am I locked in?" gasped Dorothy. "Why do you not let me go back to my friends?" "Hush there, now, dearie," and she smoothed the hand that lay idly on the red and white quilt, as Dorothy stood beside the bed. "You'll be all right.
Her head hurt, and the wagon jolted so that she was sore all over. "We have only a few more trots, then we will be at home," soothed Samanthy. "After that you kin sleep in a feather bed as soft as your own white hands." She was smoothing those hands they were very white, and very soft. What had turned Dorothy Dale's camping days into this tragedy? Where was Tavia?
Jabe likes me, I think, but he can't have me live at his house, because his mother is the kind that needs plenty of room, he says, and Samanthy has no house. But I did what I tried to do.
The well was very deep, and by leaning over the curb, and by putting one's arms around one's head, one could see the stars mirrored in the bottom of the dark old well. Samanthy came out for some water, while I was star-gazing in this way. She said: "What you lost?" "O, nothing. I am only looking at the stars." Samanthy looked as if she thought I might be more profitably engaged.
"It's 'bout time the men come in for their dinner," she said. But though Jabe was mowing the millstone hill, and though he wore a red flannel shirt, she could not see him because of the tears that blinded her eyes. The Village. "But I didn't come in to talk 'bout the fun'ral," continued Aunt Hitty, wishing that human flesh were transparent so that she could see through Samanthy Ann Ripley's back.
An' after all yer science ye must look up in yer mind, An' learn its own astronomy the star o' peace t' find. There's good old Aunt Samanthy Jane thet all her journey long Has led her heart to labour with a reveille of song. Her folks hev robbed an' left her but her faith in goodness grows, She hasn't any larnin', but I tell ye Bill, she knows!
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