As I first looked on her face, I couldn’t help thinkin’ of what I told Elder Simmons the mornin’ he was married; for never did a apple blow show more signs of frost and chill after an untimely storm, than did the face of she that was Serepta Smith. Her cheeks was as white and pale as a posy blown down on the frosty ground, and her eyes had the old timid, scareful look, and under that, whole loads of care and anxiety, and weariness; and over all her face was the old look I remembered so well—only 100 times stronger—of wantin’ to do jest right, and jest what everybody wanted her to do.
As I said, she was awful tickled to see us. But she was so full of care, and anxiety, and work, she couldn’t hardly speak to us. She hadn’t no girl, and was tryin’ to get supper for that hull drove of men, and hadn’t much to do with, for the Elder after spendin’ his hull life and strength in tryin’ to keep ’em straight in this world and gettin’ ’em headed straight towards the next, couldn’t get his pay from the Shackvillians. Her childern was a follerin’ her round—her husband needin’ headin’ off every moment or two, he was that absent-minded. I declare, I never was sorrier for anybody than I was for Serepta.
And then right on top of her other sufferin’s, every time she would come into the settin’-room, one tall minister with a cadavery look and long yeller whiskers would tackle her on the subject of religion, tryin’ to get her to relate her experience, right there, and tellin’ of her hisen. That seemed to wear on her the most of anything, a wantin’ to use him well, and knowin’ her supper was a spilein’, and her infant babes demandin’ her attention, and her husband a fumblin’ round in the suller way, or buttery, needin’ headin’ off.
Truly, in the words of the Sammist, “there is a time for things, and a place for ’em,” and it seemed as if he might have known better. But he was one of the kind that will talk. And there he sot lookin’ calm and cadavery, a pullin’ his old yeller whiskers, and holdin’ her tight by the reins of her good manners, a urgin’ her to tell her experience, and tellin’ of her hisen. I declare, I’d been glad to have laid holt of his old yeller whiskers myself, I was that out of patience with him, and I’ll bet he’d a felt it if I had. Finally I spoke up and says I: