When Nell and Jane went to see Mr. Dodd about building the long tables
to serve the barbecue dinner on, he said he was too busy to do it and
hadn't even any lumber to sell.
Then things happened in my back yard that it sounds like a romance to
write about. Jane sent me over to borrow the Crag's team and wagon and
Henrietta and Cousin Martha and any of the rest of his woman-impedimenta
that I could get. He was out of town, trying a case over at Bolivar, and
wouldn't get back until Monday night.
I am glad he wasn't here, for it would have gone hard with me to treat
him in the manner that Jane decided it was best for all the women in
Glendale to treat all the men in this crisis. It sounded sweet and cold
as molasses dispenses itself to you in midwinter, and I could see it was
a strain on Mamie and Caroline and Mrs. Kirkland, Nell's mother, and
young Mrs. Dodd, the carpenter's wife,--the Boston girl that married him
before she realized him,--to keep it up from day to day.
Besides that I'm going to be a politician's wife--though he doesn't know
it yet--and I want the Crag to be away from the necessity of taking any
sides in this civilized warfare. That's one reason I am such a
go-between for Uncle Peter and the League, I am making votes for my man,
so I consider it all right for me never to deliver any of their messages
to each other as they are given to me, but to twist them into
agreeability to suit myself.
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