But as to lyin'"--
"Say it!" commanded Amelia. "Whose were they?"
"Mine!" said Enoch. They broke into laughter, like children, and held
each other's hands.
"I ain't had a mite o' dinner," said Amelia happily, as they stepped
together into the kitchen. "Nor you! An' Rosie didn't eat her pie. You
blaze up the fire, an' I'll fry some eggs."
THE MORTUARY CHEST
"Now we've got red o' the men-folks," said Mrs. Robbins, "le's se' down
an' talk it over." The last man of all the crowd accustomed to seek the
country store at noontime was closing the church door behind him as she
spoke. "Here, Ezry," she called after him, "you hurry up, or you won't
git there afore cockcrow to-morrer, an' I wouldn't have that letter
miss for a good deal."
Mrs. Robbins was slight, and hung on wires,--so said her neighbors.
They also remarked that her nose was as picked as a pin, and that
anybody with them freckles and that red hair was sure to be smart. You
could always tell. Mrs. Robbins knew her reputation for extreme
acuteness, and tried to live up to it.
"Law! don't you go to stirrin' on him up," said Mrs. Solomon Page
comfortably, putting on the cover of her butter-box, which had
contained the family lunch.
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