“Josiah Allen, we have got to marry Molly to-day before we leave this house.”
“Good land!” says Josiah startin’ up on his piller full of horrer. “Good land,” says he, “I haint a Mormon, Samantha, I can’t marry to another woman.”
Says I coolly, “Lay down and compose yourself Josiah Allen; I am a goin’ to marry her myself.”
This skairt him worse than ever I could see, and he started up, with a still more ghastly look onto him. He was so pale with horrer that his bald head shone in the moonlight like a big goose egg, and his eyes stood out about a quarter of an inch with fear and excitement. He thought I was delerious; says he in tremblin’ tones: “What does ail you Samantha! Shant I rub your back? Don’t you want sunthin’ to take?”
Says I calmly, “I want a companion that wont interrupt me before I finish a speech. I am a goin’ to marry Molly to Tom Pitkins myself before I leave this house. Lay down Josiah Allen and keep still while I talk it over with you.”
“Talk it over!” says he in loud angry tones, throwin’ his head back on the piller. “I would break out in the dead of night, and scare a man to death, a talkin’ and a arguin’. Do go to sleep, and lemme.”
But I held firm, and would tell him about the plan I had been a layin’ on through the night. I would tell him how I meant to mollyfy the Deacon about Molly.
Says I, “Josiah Allen, I am a woman that has got a vow on me, and I love that girl, as little as I have seen of her, and I am a goin’ to do by her as I would want our Tirzah Ann done by.” Says I, “We shant probable never visit Loon Town again; Tom Pitkins is liable to die off any time with the feelin’s he feels for her; she is liable to die off any minute with her unhappiness, and her feelin’s for him. I shouldn’t wonder a mite if they didn’t live more’n ten or fifteen years if things go on as they be now. And as bad off and wretched as Molly is now, worse is ahead of her, the gloom of a Coffin is enough, let alone the hardness of a Horn. Molly haint a goin’ to be sacrificed on that Horn, while I have got a life left. Desperate diseases require desperate medicines.”
“Well, do for mercy’s sake go to sleep and lemme.”
“What if it was our Tirzah Ann that was in her place.” Says I in a low deep voice, “Haint you a father, Josiah Allen?”