co'se I don't
take no partic'lar pleasure in that photograph--but she seems to think
I might, an' no doubt she's put it there to show thet she ain't
small-minded. You ricollec' Mary Jane was plain-featured, but Kitty
don't seem to mind that ez much ez I do, now thet she's gone an' her
good deeds ain't in sight. I never did see no use in throwin' a
plain-featured woman's looks up to her _post mortem_.

"This is a mighty purty pitcher, in my judgment, but to tell the truth
I've made so much fun o' the few swingin' pitchers thet's been in this
town that I'd be ashamed to buy it, even ef I could git over my own
obnoxion to it. But of co'se, ez you say, everybody'd know thet I done
it jest to please her--an' I don't know thet they's a more worthy object
in a married man's life than that.

"I s'pose I'll haf to git it for her. An' I want a bold, outspoke
dedication on it, Rowton. I ain't a-goin' about it shamefaced. Here,
gimme that pencil. Now, I want this inscription on it, word for word.
I've got to stop over at Paul's to git him to regulate my watch, an'
I'll tell him to hurry an' mark it for me, soon ez you send it over.

"Well, so long. Happy Christmus to you an' yo' folks.

"Say, Rowton, wrap up that little merror an' them side-combs an' send
'em along, too, please. So long!"

Part II

_Time_: Same morning.
_Plate_: Store in Washington.

_Second Monologue, by Mrs. Trimble_:

"Why, howdy, Mis' Blakes--howdy, Mis' Phemie--howdy, all. Good-mornin',
Mr. Lawson. I see yo' sto'e is fillin' up early. Great minds run in the
same channel, partic'larly on Christmus Eve.

"My old man started off this mornin' befo' day, an' soon ez he got out
o' sight down the Simpkinsville road, I struck out for Washin'ton, an'
here I am. He thinks I'm home seedin' raisins. He was out by starlight
this mornin' with the big wagon, an', of co'se, I know what that means.
He's gone for my Christmus gif', an' I'm put to it to know what
tremenjus thing he's a-layin' out to fetch me--thet takes a cotton-wagon
to haul it. Of co'se I imagine everything, from a guyaskutus down. I
always did like to git things too big to go in my stockin'. What you
say, Mis' Blakes? Do I hang up my stockin'? Well, I reckon. I hadn't
quit when I got married, an' I think that's a poor time to stop, don't
you? Partic'larly when you marry a man twice-t yo' age, an' can't
convince him thet you're grown, noways. Yas, indeedy, that stockin' goes
up to-night--not