LADIES-IN-WAITING
gers. It ain’t Pitt Packard only that I expect. Yesterday mornin’ I swept a black mark on the floor; in the afternoon I found two o’ the settin’-room chairs standin’ back to back, and my right hand kep’ itchin’ all day, so ’t I knew I was goin’ to shake hands with somebody.”
“You told me ’t was the left hand,” said Jimmy.
“I never told you no such thing, Jimmy Rumford. Eat your breakfast, and don’t contradict your mother, or I’ll send you to bed quick ’s you finish eatin’. Don’t you tell me what I said nor what I did n’t say, for I won’t have it. Do you hear me?”
“You did!” responded Jimmy obstinately, preparing to dodge under the table in case of sudden necessity. “You said your left hand itched, and it meant money comin’, and you hoped Rube Hobson was goin’ to pay you for the turkey he bought a year ago last Thanksgivin’-time, so there!”
“So I did,” said the widow reflectively. “Come to think of it, so I did; it must ’a’
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