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Old Lady Number 31 by Louise Forsslund
page 44 of 124 (35%)
husband?"

Abe cleared his throat. Blossy was in earnest. Blossy could not be
laughed at. She was his friend, and Angy's friend; and she had come to
him as to a brother for advice. He too had known Samuel as man to man,
which was more than any of the sisters could say.

Stroking his beard thoughtfully, therefore, he seated himself upon a
convenient wooden chest, while Blossy slipped her old love-letter in and
out of the envelop, with that essentially feminine manner of weighing
and considering.

"Naow," began Abe at length, "this is somep'n that requires keerful
debatin'. Fust off, haowsomever, yew must remember that wigs an' ways
never made a man yit. Ez I riccollec' Sam'l, he was pooty good ez men
go. I should say he wouldn't be any more of a risk tew yew than I was
tew Angy; mebbe less. He's got quite a leetle laid by, I understand, an'
a tidy story-an'-a-half house, an' front stoop, an', by golly, can't he
cook! He's a splendid housekeeper."

"Housewifery," remarked Blossy sagely, as she began to gather her
missives together, "is an accomplishment to be scorned in a young
husband, but not in an old one. They say there hasn't been a woman
inside Samuel's house since he built it, but it's as clean as soap and
sand can make it."

"I bet yer," agreed Abe. "Hain't never been no fly inside it, neither,
I warrant yer. Fly can't light arter Sam'l's cleanin' up nohaow; he's
got ter skate."

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