As it is, you--"
"I wish you'd shet up!" broke in his wife; "this ain't no time fer
foolishness."
Then they drew their chairs up to the fireplace and sat down. They
could still hear the old woman moving about, setting things to rights
in her room. Suddenly there was a great clatter of falling slats. The
bed had come down.
"She can't put that thing up by 'erself" suggested Peter. "Go in an'
he'p 'er."
"I'll do no sech a thing; do you reckon I want 'er to scratch my eyes
out? Huh! She hates me like a rattlesnake, an' has jest come heer so
she kin devil me to death. I see it now. She seed she wusn't worryin'
me much over thar in 'er ol' cabin, an' she's jest bent on gittin'
nigher."
"I reckon that's jest yore--yore conscience a-talkin'," opined Slogan.
"Thar's no gittin' round it, Clariss, you did sorter rub it in when
Sally wus alive. I often used to wonder how the old creetur managed to
put up with it; you kept ding-dongin' at 'er frum mornin' to night. Ef
she's cracked, yo're purty apt to have it read out to you frum the Book
o' Judgment.
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