If you’re going to live out on those prairies, you'll need piles of quilts, and you shall have them if I sew my fingers to the bone. But you'll have to help make them.”
And Sara had to.
When Mrs. Jonas came, Mrs. Eben sent Sara off to the post-office to get her out of the way.
“I suppose it’s true, this time?” said Mrs. Jonas.
“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Eben briskly. “Sara is set on it. There is no use trying to move her — you know that — so I’ve just concluded to make the best of it. Pm no turn-coat. Lige Baxter is Lige Baxter still, neither more nor less. I’ve always said he was a fine young man, and I say so still. After all, he and Sara won’t be any poorer than Eben and I were when we started out.”
Mrs. Jonas heaved a sigh of relief.
“I’m real glad you take that view of it, Louisa. I’m not displeased, either, although Mrs. Harmon would take my head off if she heard me say so. I always liked Lige. But I must say I’m amazed, too, after the way Sara used to rail at him.”
“Well we might have expected it,” said Mrs. Eben sagely. “It was always Sara’s way. When any creature got sick or unfortunate she seemed to take it right into her heart. So you may say Lige Baxter’s failure was a success after all.”
