"They were too costly to lay away," she
replied, and the words were as real a eulogy of her husband as she had
ever uttered.
"It's a pity Abel lost Molly Merryweather," said Betsey. "Is thar any
likelihood of thar comin' together again? Or is it true--as the rumour
keeps up--that she is goin' to marry Mr. Jonathan befo' many months?"
"It ain't likely she'll throw away all that good money once she's got
used to it," said Sarah. "For my part, I don't hold with the folks that
blamed her for her choice. Thar ain't many husbands that would be worthy
of thar hire, an' how was she to find out, till she tried, if Abel was
one of those few or not?"
"He al'ays seemed to me almost too promisin' for his good looks, Mrs.
Revercomb. I'm mighty partial to looks in a man, thar ain't no use my
denyin' it."
"Well, I ain't," said Sarah, "they're no mo' than dross an' cobwebs in
my sight, but we're made different an' thar's no sense arguin' about
tastes--though I must say for me that I could never understand how a
modest woman like you could confess to takin' pleasure in the sight of a
handsome man."
"Well, immodest or not, I hold to it," replied Betsey in as amiable a
manner as if there had been no reflection upon her refinement.
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