all her crotchets an'
quavers, an' she ain't got a mean one, neither.

But _they're there_. An' they have to be dealt with, lovin'. Fact is,
th' ain't no other proper way to deal with nothin', in my opinion.

We was ruther glad to find out some little twists in her disposition,
wife an' me was, 'cause ef we hadn't discovered none, why we'd 'a' felt
shore she had some in'ard deceit or somethin'. No person can't be
perfec', an' when I see people always outwardly serene, I mistrust their
insides.

But little Mary Elizabeth, why, she ain't none too angelic to git a good
healthy spell o' the pouts once-t in a while, but ef she's handled kind
an' tender, why, she'll come thoo without havin' to humble herself with
apologies.

It depends largely upon how a pout is took, whether it'll contrac'
itself into a hard knot an' give trouble or thess loosen up into a
good-natured smile, an' the oftener they are let out that-a-way, the
seldomer they'll come.

Little Mary Elizabeth, why, she looks so purty when she pouts, now, that
I've been tempted sometimes to pervoke her to it, thess to witness the
new set o' dimples she'll turn out on short notice; but I ain't never
done it. I know a dimple thet's called into bein' too often in youth is
li'ble to lay the foundation of a wrinkle in old age.

But takin' her right along stiddy, day in an' day out, she's got a good
sunny disposition an' is mighty lovin' and kind.

An' as to character and dependableness, why, she's thess ez sound ez
a bell.

In a heap o' ways she nears up to us, sech, f' instance, ez when she
taken wife's cook-receipt book to go by in experimentin' with Sonny's
likes an' dislikes. 'T ain't every new-married wife thet's willin' to
sample her husband's tastes by his ma's cook-books.

They seem to think they 're too dictatorial.

But, of co'se, wife's receipts was better 'n most, an' Mary Elizabeth,
she knows that.

She ain't been married but a week, but she's served up sev'al self-made
dishes a'ready--all constructed accordin' to wife's schedule.

Of co'se I could see the diff'ence in the mixin'--but it only amused me.
An' Sonny seemed to think thet, ef anything, they was better 'n they
ever had been--which is only right and proper.

Three days after she was married, the po' little thing whipped up a
b'iled custard for dinner an', some way or other, she put salt in it
'stid o' sugar, and poor Sonny--Well, I never have knew him to lie
outright, befo', but he