'Do you call that a M?' sez she, an' shore 'nough it was as plain a W
as I ever laid eyes on.
"'Oh!' sez I, 'now I see. Do you want me to give 'em to John
Westerfelt?'
"But she wouldn't say narry a word. I seed how the land lay, fer I
knowed she'd ruther die, religion ur no religion, 'an come right out in
so many words an' say she wus sorry. You know I believe as I'm
a-settin' heer 'at thar'll be folks meetin' on the golden sands of
eternity, by the River of Life, 'at'll pass one another with the'r
noses in the air; but I'll take that back. I reckon thar won't be no
noses, nur no air, as fer that matter; folks that's read up on sech
matters says everything will be different. The Lord knows I hope it
will be. I want a change. But I am gettin' away frum Mis' Dawson.
Then I up an' told 'er p'int-blank I wus goin' to give the socks to you
with the compliments of the day, an' ef she objected she'd better put
in 'er complaint in time, but she jest walked back an' set down in
front o' the stand. John, she's that sorry fer all she's said and done
'at she can't talk about it.
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