nty-five cents from Denver. When I wrote him a receipt, I said thank
you same as Aunt Polly did when the neighbours brought her a piece of
beef: 'Ever so much obleeged, but don't forget me when you come to kill a
pig.'--Now, Mrs. Baxter, you shan't clean James Bruce's pew, or what was
his before he turned Second Advent. I'll do that myself, for he used to
be in my Sunday-school class."

"He's the backbone o' that congregation now," asserted Mrs. Sargent, "and
they say he's goin' to marry Mrs. Sam Peters, who sings in their choir as
soon as his year is up. They make a perfect fool of him in that church."

"You can't make a fool of a man that nature ain't begun with," argued
Miss Brewster. "Jim Bruce never was very strong-minded, but I declare it
seems to me that when men lose their wives, they lose their wits! I was
sure Jim would marry Hannah Thompson that keeps house for him. I
suspected she was lookin' out for a life job when she hired out with
him."

"Hannah Thompson may keep Jim's house, but she'll never keep Jim, that's
certain!" affirmed the president; "and I can't see that Mrs. Peters will
better herself much."

"I don't blame her, for one!" came in no uncertain tones from the left-
wing pews, and the Widow Buzzell rose from her knees and approached the
group by the pulpit. "If there's anything duller than cookin' three
meals a day _for_ yourself, and settin' down and eatin' 'em _by_
yourself, and then gettin' up and clearin' 'em away _after_ yourself, I'd
like to know it! I shouldn't want any good-lookin', pleasant-spoken man
to offer himself to me without he expected to be snapped up, that's all!
But if you've made out to get one husband in York County, you can thank
the Lord and not expect any more favours. I used to think Tom was poor
comp'ny and complain I couldn't have any conversation with him, but land,
I could talk at him, and there's considerable comfort in that. And I
could pick up after him! Now every room in my house is clean, and every
closet and bureau drawer, too; I can't start drawin' in another rug, for
I've got all the rugs I can step foot on. I dried so many apples last
year I shan't need to cut up any this season. My jelly and preserves
ain't out, and there I am; and there most of us are, in this village,
without a man to take steps for and trot 'round after! There's just
three husbands among the fifteen women scrubbin' here now, and the rest
of us is all old maids and widder