"I've stayed here long enough, if even my sister-in-law, as well as my own nephew, from whom I expect nothing better, makes me her laughingstock.

Brother Timothy, I can no longer remain in your dwelling to be laughed at; I will go to the poorhouse and end my miserable existence as a common pauper.

If I only receive Christian burial when I leave the world, it will be all I hope or expect from my relatives, who will be glad enough to get rid of me." The second application of the handkerchief had so increased the effect, that Jack found it impossible to check his laughter, while the cooper, whose attention was now drawn to his sister's face, burst out in a similar manner.
This more amazed Rachel than Martha's merriment.
"Even you, Timothy, join in ridiculing your sister!" she exclaimed, in an "_Et tu, Brute_" tone.
"We don't mean to ridicule you, Rachel," gasped her sister-in-law, "but we can't help laughing." "At the prospect of my death!" uttered Rachel, in a tragic tone.

"Well, I'm a poor, forlorn creetur, I know.

Even my nearest relations make sport of me, and when I speak of dying, they shout their joy to my face." "Yes," gasped Jack, nearly choking, "that's it exactly.