We lived like our neighbors, and you know what kind of a way that was.
"'One day John said to me, "Emma," says he, "it's awful, the way we're living; we'd better be dead." His voice was shaky-like, and it kind of made me feel bad.

"I know it, John," said I, "but what can we do ?" "Go 'way from here," he said.

"But where ?" I asked.

"Anywhere.

I'm not all played out yet;" and he held up his hand and shut it tight.