Now, I'm a lone woman, an' my chickens an' my
truck-patch is my livin', and _I ain't gwine to stan' no sich!_" The
convalescents, attracted by the shrill, angry voice, gathered around.
Their innocent surprise, and the wonder with which they examined the
baited fish-hook and _sympathized with the old lady_, almost upset the
gravity of the "sturgeons," as the old body called the doctors.
There was one dry-goods store still kept open in Newnan, but few
ladies had the inclination or the means to go shopping. The cotton
lying idle all over the South was then to a certain extent utilized.
Everything the men wore was dyed and woven at home: pants were either
butternut, blue, or light purple, occasionally light yellow; shirts,
coarse, but snowy white, or what would now be called _cream_.
Everybody knitted socks. Ladies, negro women, girls, and even little
boys, learned to knit. Each tried to get ahead as to number and
quality. Ladies' stockings were also knitted of all grades from stout
and thick to gossamer or open-work, etc. Homespun dresses were proudly
worn, and it became a matter of constant experiment and great pride to
improve the quality and vary colors.
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