I
cut out a pink nightgown last night, a real fussy one, 'n' I felt sick
all over 't the thought 't perhaps I'd wasted all that cloth. There
wasn't nothin' foolish about cuttin' out the nightgown, for I'd made
up my mind 't if it looked too awful fancy on 't I'd just put it away
for the oldest girl when she gets married, but o' course 'f I can't
get a husband stands to reason there'll be no oldest girl, 'n' all
that ten cent gingham 't Shores is sellin' off't five 'd be a dead
waste o' good stuff."
Mrs. Lathrop chewed her clover.
"Do you suppose there'll be any trouble with Jathrop? Do you suppose
it'll matter any to him which side o' the fence he lives on?"
Mrs. Lathrop shook her head slowly.
"I sh'd think he ought to be only too pleased to marry me 'f I want
him to, all the days 't I tended him when he was a baby! My, but he
_was_ a cute little fellow! Everybody was lookin' for him to grow up a
real credit to you _then_. Well, 's far 's that goes, it's a ill wind
't blows no good, 'n' no one c'n deny 't he's been easy for you to
manage, 'n' what's sauce f'r the goose is sauce f'r the gander, so I
sh'll look to be equally lucky.
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