thing to be done, and then settin’ over their ill-gotten tasks, sewin’, and gabblin’ slander all the afternoon, to get money to buy velvet pulpit-cushions or gilt chandeliers with, or to help pay some missionary’s passage to the Tongoo Islands, is, in my opinion, a humbug, and, what’s worse, a downright breach of the Golden Rule. At any rate, with my notions, it would be hypocrisy in me to join in, and that’s why I don’t invite the society here. I don’t know but I have spoke too strong; if so, I’m sorry; but I’ve had to earn my own livin’, ever since I was a girl, with my needle, and I know how hard the lot of them is that have to do so too. Besides, I can’t help thinkin’, what, perhaps, you never thought of, yourselves, ladies, that every person, who, while they can just as well turn their hands to other business, yet, for their own whim, or pleasure, or convenience, or profit, chooses to do work, of which there ant enough now in the world to keep in employment them that must get such work to do, or else beg, or sin, or starve,—when I think, I say, that every such person helps some poor cretur into the grave, or the jail, or a place worse than both, I feel that strong talk isn’t out of place; and I’ve known this very Dorcas Society to send to Hartford and get shirts to make, under price, and spend their blood-money afterwards to buy a new carpet for the minister’s parlor. That was a fact, Miss Jaynes, though perhaps it wa’n’t polite in me to speak on’t; and so for fear of worse, I’ll say no more.”
When this speech of his housekeeper came to the Doctor’s ears, he expressed so warm an approval of its sentiments, that several who heard him began to be confirmed in suspicions they had previously entertained, the nature of which may be inferred from a remark which Mrs. Prouty confided to the ear of a trusty friend and crony. “Now do you mind what I say, Miss Baker,” said she, shaking her snuffy forefinger in Mrs. Baker’s face; “Doctor Bugbee’ll marry Tira Blake yet. Now do you just stick a pin there.”
But the revolving seasons twice went their annual round, the great weeping-willow-tree in the burying-ground twice put forth its tender foliage in the early spring, and twice in autumn strewed with yellow leaves the mound of Mrs. Bugbee’s grave, while the predictions of many, who, like Mrs. Prouty, had foretold the Doctor’s second wedding, still remained without fulfilment. Nay, at the end of two years after his wife’s death, Doctor Bugbee seemed to be no more disposed to matrimony than in the first days of his bereavement. There were, to be sure, floating on the current of village gossip, certain rumors that he was soon to take a second wife; but as none of these reports agreed touching the name of the lady, each contradicted all the others, and so none were of much account. Besides, there was nothing in the Doctor’s appearance or behavior that seemed to warrant any of these idle stories. It is the way with many hopeful widowers (as everybody knows) to become, after an interval of decorous sadness, more brisk and gay than even in their youthful days; bestowing unusual care upon their attire and the adornment of their persons, and endeavoring, by a courteous and gallant demeanor towards every unmarried lady, to signify the great esteem in which they hold the female sex. But these signs, and all others which betoken an ardent desire to win the favor of the fair, were wanting in the Doctor’s aspect and deportment. Though, as my reader knows, he was by nature a man of lively temper, he was now grown more sedate than he had ever been before; and instead of attiring himself more sprucely than of old, he neglected his apparel to such a degree, that, although few would have noticed the untidy change, Statira was filled with continual alarms, lest some invidious housewife should perceive it, and lay the blame at her door. Except when called abroad to perform some professional duty, he spent his time at home, although his family observed that he secluded himself in
