Old Lady Number 31 by Louise Forsslund
page 23 of 124 (18%)
page 23 of 124 (18%)
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eat twenty ter a meal an' then look hungry at the platter. An' then ef
old Square Ely didn't come a-drivin' up one mornin' with ten bushel in the farm wagon! He'd been savin' 'em fer us all winter fer fear we might run short in the spring. Gals, thar's one thing yew kin depend on, the foresightedness of the Lord. I hain't afraid ter risk a-stretchin' the board an' keep o' thirty ter pervide ample fer thirty-one. Naow, haow many of yew is willin' ter try it?" Every head nodded, "I am"; every eye was wet with the dew of merciful kindness; and Mrs. Homan and Sarah Jane, who had flung plates at each other only that morning, were observed to be holding hands. "But haow on arth be we a-goin' ter sleep him?" proceeded the matron uneasily. "Thar hain't a extry corner in the hull place. Puttin' tew people in No. 30 is out of the question--it's jest erbout the size of a Cinderella shoebox, anyhow, an' the garret leaks--" She paused, for Blossy was pulling at her sleeve, the real Blossy, warmhearted, generous, self-deprecating. "I think No. 30 is just the coziest little place for one! Do let me take it, Miss Abigail, and give the couple my great big barn of a room." Aunt Nancy eyed her suspiciously. "Yew ain't a-gwine ter make a fool o' yerself, an' jump over the broomstick ag'in?" For Blossy's old suitor, Samuel Darby, had made one of his semiannual visits only that morning. The belle burst into hysterical and self-conscious laughter, as she found every glance bent upon her. |
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