“I have got home Josiah! is breakfast ready?”
There was a tenderness in his tone, and a happy smile on his face that reminded me of the sweet days of our courtship, as he answered me in a tone almost husky with emotion,
“Yes Samantha, all but settin’ the table.”
Says I, “I’m glad of it, for I’m dreadful hungry.”
It was a lovely Monday forenoon some three or four weeks after my voyage. I was a sittin’ near the open back door enjoyin’ the pleasant prospect, and also washin’ some new potatoes for dinner. Truly it was a fair scene. The feathered hens was a singin’ in their innocent joy as they scratched the yieldin’ turf after bugs and worms. Old “Hail the Day” was proudly struttin’ round, standin’ first on one foot and then on the other, and crowin’ joyfully in his careless freedom and glee. The breezes blew sweetly from the west, and I thought with joy that my clothes on the clothes line would be ready to iron by the time I got dinner out of the way. The sun shone down out of a blue and cloudless sky, and I looked pensively at my green gages, and thought fondly how the sun was a ripenin’ ’em. All nature was peaceful and serene, and my mind as I gently scraped the large fair potatoes, and thought how good they was goin’ to be with the baked lamb I had got in the oven, was as peaceful and serene as the same. Suddenly I heard the gate click to and I saw old Mr. Bobbet comin’ up to the house. He seemed dreadfully agitated, and I could hear him talkin’ to himself. He came right into the door and took his hat off in one hand, holdin’ his crooked cane in the other and swung ’em both over his head to once, and says he,
“What’s done,” says I droppin’ my knife onto the floor.
“Betsey’s gone!” shouted he, and he run out the door like a luny.
I was a most skairt to death, and remained motionless nigh onto a minute, when I heard Josiah comin’ in. Little did I dream what a blow was comin’ onto me. He come and stood right in front of me, and I thought at the time, he looked at me dreadful curious, but I kep’ on a scrapin’ my potatoes, (I had got ’em most done.)
Finally all at once Josiah spoke up and says he,
I dropped the pan of potatoes right down onto the floor for I was as weak as a weak white cat. “Who! Josiah Allen! who! is the man?”