should we go?"

But still that idee kep' a hantin me; "You'd better go to Saratoga
next summer, you and Josiah." And it whispered, "Mebby it will
help Josiah's corns." (He is dretful troubled with corns.) And
so the idee kep' a naggin' me, it nagged me for three days and
three nights before I mentioned it to my Josiah. And when I did,
he scorfed at the idee. He said, "The idee of water curing them
dumb corns -- "

Sez I, "Josiah Allen, stranger things have been done;" sez I,
"that water is very strong. It does wonders."

And he scorfed agin and sez, "Don't you believe faith could cure
em?"

Sez I, "If it wuz strong enough it could."

But the thought kep a naggin' me stiddy, and then -- here is the
curious part of it -- the thought nagged me, and I nagged Josiah,
or not exactly nagged; not a clear nag; I despise them, and always
did. But I kinder kep' it before his mind from day to day, and
from hour to hour. And the idee would keep a tellin' me things
and I would keep a tellin' 'em to my companion. The idee would
keep a sayin' to me, "It is one of the most beautiful places in
our native land. The waters will help you, the inspirin' music,
and elegance and gay enjoyment you will find there, will sort a
uplift you. You had better go there on a tower;" and agin it sez,
"Mebby it will help Josiah's corns."