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Lord, Lord! how will I stand it! God bless 'im! Doc! He's a-sneezin'! Come quick! Shore ez I'm here, he snez twice-t! Don't you reckon you better pile some mo' wood on the fire an' What's that you say? "Fetch 'im along"? An' has she ast for 'im? Bless the Lord! I say. But a couple of you 'll have to come help me loosen up 'fo' I can stir, doctor.
Who is she, you say? Why, don't you know? She's Joe Wallace's little Mary Elizabeth a nice, well-mannered child ez ever lived. Wife has had her over here to supper sev'al nights lately, an' Sonny he's took tea over to the Wallaces' once-t or twice-t, an' they say he shows mighty good table manners, passin' things polite, an' leavin' proper amounts on his plate.
He's been learned to thess pass over aughts an' not call their names; and once-t or twice-t, when wife called 'em out that a-way, why, he got so fretted he thess gethered up his things an' went to another school. But seem like she's added aughts that a-way so long she can't think to add 'em no other way.
But ez for book-readin', wife an' me aint never felt called on to read no book save an' exceptin' the Holy Scriptures an', of cose, the seed catalogues. An' here Sonny, not quite twelve year old, has read five books thoo, an' some of 'em twice-t an' three times over. His "Robinson Crusoe" shows mo' wear'n tear'n what my Testament does, I'm ashamed to say.
I wuz that gone tell I didn't know whe'er I 'uz rolled up in a haystack er stretched out in a feather-bed. I reckon ef you'd 'a' listened right clost you'd 'a' heern me sno'. I thes laid back an' howled at the rafters, an' once-t er twice-t I wuz afeard I mought waken up Puss."
"Well" the old man's voice softened "she thinks I stand in need of 'em, of co'se. The fact is, that yaller-spotted steer run ag'in her clo'esline twice-t to-day drug the whole week's washin' onto the ground, an' then tromped on it. She's inside a-renchin' an' a-starchin' of 'em over now.
I hadn't quit when I got married, an' I think that's a poor time to stop, don't you? Partic'larly when you marry a man twice-t yo' age, an' can't convince him thet you're grown, noways. Yas, indeedy, that stockin' goes up to-night not mine, neither, but one I borry from Aunt Jane Peters. I don't wonder y' all laugh.
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