he went off with a flea in his ear. Why, Cappen—did ye ever hear of such a piece of audacity in all yer born days? for

    him

   —

    Tim Crane

   —to durst to expire to my hand—the widder o' Deacon Bedott, jest as if

    I'd

   condescen' to look at

    him

   —the old numbskull! He don't know B from a broomstick; but if he'd a-stayed much longer I'd a-teached him the difference, I guess. He's got his

    walkin' ticket

   now—I hope he'll lemme alone in futur. And where's Kier? Gun hum with the Cranes, hey! Well, I guess it's the last time. And now, Melissy Bedott, you ain't to have nothin' more to dew with them gals—d'ye hear? You ain't to 'sociate with 'em at all arter this—twould only be incurridgin' th' old man to come a-pesterin' me agin—and I won't have him round—d'ye hear? Don't be in a hurry, Cappen—and don't be alarmed at my gittin' in such passion about old Crane's presumption. Mabby you think 'twas onfeelin' in me to use him so—an' I don't say but what 'twas

    ruther

   , but then he's so awful disagreeable tew me, you know—'tain't

    everybody

   I'd treat in such a way. Well, if you

    must

   go, good-evenin'! Give my love to Hanner when you write agin—dew call frequently, Cappen Canoot, dew."—

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