William was of a dreadful
quiet turn, and a great home body; and as for being rich, he had nothing
to brag of, though he was high larnt and followed the river as dark
sometimes."
Mrs. Hill had by this time prepared her currants, and Mrs. Troost paused
from her story while she filled the kettle and attached the towel to the
end of the well-sweep, where it waved as a signal for Peter to come to
supper.
"Now, just move your chair a leetle nearer the kitchen door, if you
please," said Mrs. Hill, "and I can make up my biscuit and hear you,
too."
Meantime, coming to the door with some bread-crumbs in her hands, she
began scattering them on the ground and calling, "Biddy, biddy,
biddy--chicky, chicky, chicky"--hearing which, a whole flock of poultry
was around her in a minute; and, stooping down, she secured one of the
fattest, which, an hour afterward, was broiled for supper.
"Dear me, how easily you get along!" said Mrs. Troost.
And it was some time before she could compose herself sufficiently to
take up the thread of her story. At length, however, she began with--
"Well, as I was saying, nobody thought William McMicken would marry
Sally May. Poor man! they say he is not like himself any more. He may
get a dozen wives, but he'll never get another Sally. A good wife she
made him, for all she was such a wild girl.
"The old man May was opposed to the marriage, and threatened to turn
Sally, his own daughter, out of house and home; but she was headstrong,
and would marry whom she pleased; and so she did, though she never got a
stitch of new clothes, nor one thing to keep house with.
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