That's the way," she said, turning to John with a smile trembling on her lips, "'t he picks at me the hull time." "I've noticed it," said John.

"It's shameful." "I do it hully fer her good," asserted David with a grin.

"If it wa'n't fer me she'd git in time as narrer as them seven-day Babtists over to Peeble--they call 'em the 'narrer Babtists.' You've heard on 'em, hain't you, Polly ?" "No," she said, without looking up from her plate, "I never heard on 'em, an' I don't much believe you ever did neither." "What!" exclaimed David, "You lived here goin' on seventy year an' never heard on 'em ?" "David Harum!" she cried, "I ain't within ten year----" "Hold on," he protested, "don't throw that teacup.

I didn't say you _was_, I only said you was _goin' on_--an' about them people over to Peeble, they've got the name of the 'narrer Babtists' because they're so narrer in their views that fourteen on 'em c'n sit, side an' side, in a buggy." This astonishing statement elicited a laugh even from Aunt Polly, but presently she said: "Wa'al, I'm glad you found one man that would stan' you off on Sunday." "Yes'm," said her brother, "'Lizer 's jest your kind.

I knew 't he'd hurt his foot, an' prob'ly couldn't go to meetin', an' sure enough, he was settin' on the stoop, an' I drove in an' pulled up in the lane alongside.