Well, 'n' my cousin! She come out o' a letter, Mrs.
Lathrop, a old torn letter 's you or any other ordinary person would
probably 'a' throwed away without even readin'. But I was never one to
do things slipshod, 'n' I read every scrap 's I 've got time to piece
together, so it was nothin' but natural 's I sh'd quit work 's soon 's
I see Cousin Marion's letter 'n' sit right down to read it. 'N' it's
good as I did too, for 'f I 'd been careless 'n' burned my rubbish
unread, Cousin Marion 'd certainly 'a' burnt with the other scraps,
'n' as a consequence I'd 'a' missed about the happiest minutes 's I
've knowed since father died. You c'n believe me or not, jus' 's you
please, Mrs. Lathrop, but I cried over that letter; 'n' if some was
the dust in my nose, the rest was real affection, for, Lord knows,
when you 're scratchin' out mice 'n' cobwebs you ain't lookin' to find
a relation none. But anyhow, there she was, 'n' if she ain't died in
the mean time--f'r the letter was wrote over fifty years ago--I may
know suthin' o' family life yet. It was the beautifullest letter 't I
ever read. You c'd n't imagine nothin' more beautiful. I'm afraid 's
mebbe mother 'n' me misjudged father, owin' to the everlastin' up 'n'
down stairs, 'n' mother used to say right out 't it was a neck to neck
tie 's to which he stuck closest to, his bed or his money.
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