The weasel 's been dead for ages,
but the scraper 's never been changed. I wish I could remember that
weasel. Father loved him 'n' mother hated him,--she said she was always
findin' him asleep in her shoes and sleeves. I was speakin' about it to
Gran'ma Mullins to-day 'n' she said she remembered comin' to tea at
mother's once 'n' their findin' the weasel in the tea-pot. I guess
that's the first time Gran'ma Mullins has spoken of any livin' soul but
Hiram in six months. She 's feelin' worse than ever over Lucy's decidin'
to be married at home on account o' the blue bengaline. She says that's
a extra turn o' the ice-cream-freezer handle as she never counted on
havin' to submit to. She says she naturally supposed if Hiram got
married as she 'd sit in the front pew for once in her life, 'n' see the
bride's dress good, 'n' hear the answers plain, 'n' now instid her only
child, as she 's loved like a mother ever since he was born, is goin' to
be married in a parlor as private as if he was bein' buried from the
smallpox! She says, oh dear, oh dear, seems like she never will be able
to live down that mirror as she smashed with her head the first time she
saw what she looked like. She says she wa'n't more 'n nine months old
'n' yet that mirror has tagged her right through life ever since. She
says she missed all her school examinations 'n' did n't get the deacon
'n' did get her husband, 'n' as if that wa'n't enough she must needs
lose her husband, 'n' she 's had no choice but to be a widow ever since,
'n' she 's been sprained in all directions 'n' been broke in all
directions 'n' her mince-meat 'most always ferments 'n' Hiram 's been
her one bright spot 'n' now he 's got to get married in a parlor.
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