“Why didn’t he help you along with the children?” says I, in a indignant tone.
“Oh, he said he had to make a great exertion to-day, and he wanted to have his mind free and clear; he is one of the kind that can’t have their minds trammeled.”
“It would do him good to be trammeled--hard!” says I, lookin’ darkly on him.
“Don’t speak so of him,” says she beseechingly.
“Are you satisfied with his doin’s?” says I, lookin’ keenly at her.
“Oh yes,” says she in a trustin’ tone, liftin’ her care-worn, weary countenance to mine, “oh yes, you don’t know how beautiful he can _talk_.”
I said no more, for it is a invincible rule of my life, not to make no disturbances in families. But I give the yearlin’ pretty near a pound of candy on the spot, and the glances I cast on _him_ and the pretty girl he was a flirtin’ with, was cold enough to freeze ’em both into a male and female glazier.
Lawyer Nugent now got up and said, “That whereas the speaking was foreclosed, or in other words finished, he motioned they should adjourn to the dinner table, as the fair committee had signified by a snowy signal that fluttered like a dove of promise above waves of emerald, or in plainer terms by a _towel_, that dinner was forthcoming; whereas he motioned that they should adjourn _sine die_ to the aforesaid table.”
Old Mr. Bobbet, and the Editer of the Gimlet seconded the motion at the same time. And Shakespeare Bobbet wantin’ to do somethin’ in a public way, got up and motioned “that they proceed to the table on the usial road,” but there wasn’t any other way--only to wade the creek--that didn’t seem to be necessary, but nobody took no notice of it, so it was jest as well.
[Illustration: WHAT HAPPENED AT THE DINNER]
The dinner was good, but there was an awful crowd round the tables, and I was glad I wore my old lawn dress, for the children was thick, and so was bread and butter, and sass of all kinds, and jell tarts. And I hain’t no shirk, I jest plunged right into the heat of the battle, as you may say, waitin’ on the children, and the spots on my dress skirt would have been too much for anybody that couldn’t count 40. To say nothin’ about old Mr. Peedick steppin’ through the back breadth, and Betsey Bobbet ketchin’ holt of me, and rippin’ it off the waist as much as ½ a yard. And then a horse started up behind the widder Tubbs, as I was bendin’ down in front of her to get somethin’ out of a basket, and she weighin’ above 200, was precipitated onto my straw bonnet, jammin’ it down almost as flat as it was before it was braided. I came off pretty well in other respects, only about two yards of the ruflin’ of my black silk cape was tore by two boys who got to fightin’ behind me, and bein’ blind with rage tore it off, thinkin’ they had got holt of each other’s hair. There was a considerable number of toasts drank, I can’t remember all of ’em, but among ’em was these,