'I am Shakespeare,' he says, sudden-like.
"'What's that ?' says Doc, short and quick.
"'Shakespeare,' says Moller--'William Shakespeare.' "Poor Doc jist dropped into his chair, and run his hand over his forehead and his eyes, like he had bumped into the edge of a door in the dark.

I ain't never seen Doc real pale but once, and that was then.
Then he turned round to ma an' me, weak as a sick baby, an' says, 'Come, Loreny; this lyin' place ain't nowhere for you and me to be,' and we went out.
"'Well, Doc,' I says, when we was outside, 'seems to me like there is two of you,' and that was all I says to him about it, then; but I guess he see what a fool he'd been, 'cause the next night he says, 'Loreny, I wisht you'd git me a set of the articles of belief of our church.

I'd like to look them over.' "'Well,' I says, 'who'll I say wants them, Shakespeare or Doc Weaver ?' "'You can say an old fool wants them,' says Doc, 'and you'll hit it about right.' "So Doc jined church, an' he's leadin' the singin' now; but you can see why I keep sich a lookout lest he gits started off on some new religion." Mrs.Weaver glanced at the clock.
"Mercy me!" she exclaimed.

"Doc'll be home before I git them supper dishes washed up.

Now, you won't feel hurt because I don't want you to talk new religions to Doc, will you?
You can see jist how I feel, and you wouldn't want no husband yourself that was a philopeny, as you might say.