human
Not yet. Folks don't hurry about answering when you ask them for a contribution, replied the president, with a cynicism common to persons who collect funds for charitable purposes.
gpt
George Wickham sent me twenty-five cents from Denver. When I wrote him a receipt, I said thank you same as Aunt Polly did when the neighbours brought her a piece of beef: 'Ever so much obleeged, but don't forget me when you come to kill a pig.'--Now, Mrs. Baxter, you shan't clean James Bruce's pew, or what was his before he turned Second Advent. I'll do that myself, for he used to be in my Sunday-school class.
human
He's the backbone o' that congregation now, asserted Mrs. Sargent,
gpt
You can't make a fool of a man that nature ain't begun with, argued Miss Brewster.
human
Jim Bruce never was very strong-minded, but I declare it seems to me that when men lose their wives, they lose their wits! I was sure Jim would marry Hannah Thompson that keeps house for him. I suspected she was lookin' out for a life job when she hired out with him.
gpt
Hannah Thompson may keep Jim's house, but she'll never keep Jim, that's certain! affirmed the president;
human
I don't blame her, for one! came in no uncertain tones from the left- wing pews, and the Widow Buzzell rose from her knees and approached the group by the pulpit.
gpt
If there's anything duller than cookin' three meals a day _for_ yourself, and settin' down and eatin' 'em _by_ yourself, and then gettin' up and clearin' 'em away _after_ yourself, I'd like to know it! I shouldn't want any good-lookin', pleasant-spoken man to offer himself to me without he expected to be snapped up, that's all! But if you've made out to get one husband in York County, you can thank the Lord and not expect any more favours. I used to think Tom was poor comp'ny and complain I couldn't have any conversation with him, but land, I could talk at him, and there's considerable comfort in that. And I could pick up after him! Now every room in my house is clean, and every closet and bureau drawer, too; I can't start drawin' in another rug, for I've got all the rugs I can step foot on. I dried so many apples last year I shan't need to cut up any this season. My jelly and preserves ain't out, and there I am; and there most of us are, in this village, without a man to take steps for and trot 'round after! There's just three husbands among the fifteen women scrubbin' here now, and the rest of us is all old maids and widders. No wonder the men-folks die, or move away like Justin Peabody; a place with such a mess o' women-folks ain't healthy to live in, whatever Lobelia Brewster may say.