two things she said. One day, she set rockin' back'ards an' for'ards in
a straight chair, holdin' her hands round her knees, an' she says,--

"'I 'ain't got no pride, Sally Flint! I 'ain't got no pride!'

"An' once she looked up kind o' pitiful an' says, 'Ain't it queer I
can't die?' But, poor creatur', I never thought she knew what she was
sayin'. She'd ha' been the last one to own she wa'n't contented if
she'd had any gover'ment over her words.

"Well, Josh he'd turned the hired man away because he couldn't do for
him over the airtight stove, an' he got men to help him by days' works.
An' through the winter, he jest set over the fire an' sucked his claws,
an' thought how smart he was. But one day 'twas awful cold, an' we'd
been tryin' out lard, an' the fat ketched fire, an' everything was all
up in arms, anyway. Cyrus he was goin' by Josh's, an' he didn't see no
smoke from the settin'-room stove. So he jest went to the side door an'
walked in, an' there set Josh in the middle o' the room. Couldn't move
hand nor foot! Cyrus didn't stop for no words, but he run over to our
house, hollerin', 'Josh Harden's got a stroke!' An' ma'am left the
stove all over fat an' run, an' I arter her, I guess Lyddy Ann must ha'
seen us comin', for we hadn't more'n got into the settin'-room afore
she was there. The place was cold as a barn, an' it looked like a
hurrah's nest. Josh never moved, but his eyes follered her when she
went into the bedroom to spread up the bed.

"'You help me, Cyrus,' says she, kind, o' twittery-like, but calm.
'We'll carry him in here. I can lift.'

"But our men-folks got there jest about as they was tryin' to plan how