kinds.

The author of "Wedlock's Peaceful Repose" came out into the kitchen. I
told her she might, if she wanted to, for I see I wuzn't goin' to have a
minute's time to go into the parlor and visit with her.

She looked pretty sober and thoughtful, and I didn't know as she liked
it, to think I couldn't do as I promised to do, accordin' to agreement,
to hear her lecture, and lift my hand up when I differed from her.

But, good land! I couldn't help it. I couldn't get a minute's time to
lift my hand up. I could have heard the lecture, but I couldn't spare my
hands.

And then Josiah would come a-rushin' in after one thing and another,
actin' as was natural, accordin' to the nater of man, more like a wild
man than a Christian Methodist. For he was so wrought up and excited by
havin' so much on his hands to do, and the onexpectedness of it, that he
couldn't help actin' jest as he did act. I don't believe he could. And
then Steve Yerden is enough to distract a leather-man, any way.

[Illustration: "TO FIND A PIECE OF OLD ROPE TO TIE UP THE HARNESS."]

Twice I had to drop everything and find cloths to do up the horse's
legs, where it had grazed 'em a-fallin' out of the machine. And once I
took my hands out of the pie-crust to find a piece of old rope to tie up
the harness. It seemed as if I left off every five minutes to wait on
Josiah Allen, to find somethin' that he wanted and couldn't find, or
else to do somethin' for him that he couldn't do.