"Anuther whot," ses I.
"Anuther gal," ses she.
"Well," ses I, "go rite strate and tell Sal I won't stand it, I don't
want 'em, and I ain't goin' to have 'em; dus she think I'm a Turk? or a
Mormon? or Brigham Young? that she go fur to have tribbles?--three at a
pop! Dus she think I'm wurth a hundred thousand dollars? that I'm Jo'n
Jacob Aster, or Mr. Roschile? that I kin afford thribbles, an clothe an
feed an school three children at a time? I ain't a goin' to stand it no
how, I didn't want 'em, I don't want 'em, and ain't a going to want 'em
now, nur no uther time. Hain't I bin a good and dootiful husband to Sal?
Hain't I kep' in doors uv a nite, an quit chawn tobacker and smokin'
segars just to please her? Hain't I attended devine worship reg'lar?
Hain't I bought her all the bonnets an frocks she wanted? an then for
her to go an have thribbs. She noed better an hadn't orter dun it. I
didn't think Sal wud serve me such a trick now. Have I ever stole a
horse? Have I ever done enny mean trick, that she should serve me in
this way?" An with that I laid down on the settee, an felt orful bad, an
the more I tho't about it, the wus I felt.
Presently Sal's mammy, ole Miss Jones, cums in an ses,