But her
generous heart had kept her poor, and her back was bending with years
made heavy by loss of sleep, sitting up, nursing the sick.
While she was stirring about, making ready for supper, Margaret, giving
to herself a sudden straightening, stepped forward and remarked:
"Now, Miz Spencer, you air mistaken if you think you air any gamer than
I am. Why, if necessity demanded, I could load a shot-gun with tears an'
scald a enemy to death. I don't know quite as much about my folks as you
do yourn, but I kin ricolleck a red puddle on the doorstep. So now, we
air standin' on equal ground. Miz Barker, I reckon it's yo' nature to
cry, so jest pitch in an' cry all you want to while we air gittin'
supper; an' then in the night, I'll change yo' pillow every time it gits
too wet fur you."
"Gracious me, I don't want to cry that bad," Mrs. Barker replied.
"There's a time for all things, an' I'm from a fightin' fam'ly, too,
I'll give you to understand. Have you got any right young pigs? If you
have, suppose we kill one an' roast it--'twon't take long.
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