ather than "old maid" (but I had to tutor Josiah dretful
sharp before I could get him into it).

I guess Lodema is one of the regular sort. There is different kinds of
old maidens, some that could marry if they would, and some that
would but couldn't. And I ruther mistrust she is one of the
"would-but-couldn't's," though I wouldn't dast to let her know I said
so, not for the world.

Josiah never could bear the sight of her, and he sort o' blamed her for
bein' a old maiden. But I put a stop to that sudden, for sez I:

"She hain't to blame, Josiah."

And she wuzn't. I hain't a doubt of it.

Wall, how long she calculated to stay this time we didn't know. But we
had our fears and forebodin's about it; for she wuz in the habit of
makin' awful long visits. Why, sometimes she would descend right down
onto us sudden and onexpected, and stay fourteen weeks right along--jest
like a famine or a pestilence, or any other simely that you are a mind
to bring up that is tuckerin' and stiddy.

And she wuz disagreeable, I'll confess, and she wuz tuckerin', but I
done well by her, and stood between her and Josiah all I could. He loved
to put on her, and she loved to impose on him. I don't stand up for
either on 'em, but they wuz at regular swords' pints all the time
a'most. And it come fearful tuff on me, fearful tuff, for I had to stand
the brunt on it.

But she is a disagreeable creeter, and no mistake. She is one of them
that can't find one solitary thing or one solitary person in this wide
world to suit 'em. If the weather is cold she is pinin' for hot weather,
and if the weather is hot she is pantin' for zero.

[Illustration: "BUT SHE IS A DISAGREEABLE CREETER."]

If it is a pleasant day the sun hurts her eyes, and if it is cloudy she
groans aloud and says "she can't see."

And no human bein' wuz ever known to suit her. She gets up early in the
mornin' and puts on her specs, and goes out (as it were) a-huntin' up
faults in folks. And she finds 'em, finds lots of 'em. And then she
spends the rest of the day a-drivin' 'em ahead of her, and groanin' at
'em.

You know this world bein' such a big place and so many different sort o'
things in it that you can generally find in it the perticuler sort of
game you set out to hunt in the mornin'.

If you set out to hunt beauty and goodness, if you take good aim and are
perseverin'--if you jest track 'em and foller 'em stiddy from mornin'
till night, and don't get led away a-folle