"thy" it was pronounced so much like "thee" that I could scarcely perceive
the difference. To her husband and child she always used the Quaker speech
of the present day; and as I did not like being set aside in this way, I
said to her that I hoped there was no rule of the Society of Friends which
would compel her to make a change in her form of speech when she addressed
me. "If thee likes," she said, with a smile, "thee is welcome to all the
plain speech thee wants." And after that, when she spoke to me, she did
not turn me out among the world's people.

"Now, you know," said Mr. Crowder, "that I'm not going to play the part
of an historian. That sort of discourse would bore me, and it would bore
you. If there is any kind of thing that you would like to hear about,
all you have to do is to ask me; and if you don't care to do this, I will
tell you whatever comes up in my memory, without any regard to chronology
or geography, just as I talked to you before. If I were to begin at the
beginning and go straight along, even if I skipped ever so much, the
story would--it would be a great deal too long."

I am sure that Mrs. Crowder and I both felt what he did not wish to
say--that we were not likely to live to hear it all.

"There are a great many things I should like to ask thee," said Mrs.
Crowder, speaking quickly, as if to change the subject of her thoughts;
"but I believe I have forgotten most of them. But here is something I
should like to know--that is," she said, turning to me, "if thee hasn't
anything in thy mind which thee wishes to ask about?"

I noticed that she pronounced "thy" very distinctly, a little bit of
grammatical conscience probably obtruding itself. Of course, I had
nothing to ask, and she put her question: "What _did_ thee do in