My wife has always said that Magnus and I holed
up in our den like wild animals, and sometimes like a certain domestic
one. But what with Magnus and the fiddle and his stories of Norway and
mine of the canal we amused ourselves pretty well and got along without
baths. My cows, and the chickens, and our vegetables and potatoes, and
our white and buckwheat flour and the corn-meal mush and johnny-cake
kept us fat, and I entirely outgrew my best suit, so that I put it on
for every day, and burst it at most of the seams in a week.
2
I was sorry for the people in the towns, and sold most of my eggs,
fowls, butter, cream and milk on credit: and though Virginia and I were
not on good terms and I never went to see her any more; and though
Grandma Thorndyke was, I felt sure, trying to get Virginia's mind fixed
on a better match, like Bob Wade or Paul Holbrook, I used to take eggs,
butter, milk or flour to the elder's family almost every time I went to
town: and when the weather was warm enough so that they would not
freeze, I took potatoes, turnips, and sometimes some cabbage for a
boiled dinner, with a piece of pork to go with it.
When the elder found out who was sending it he tried to thank me, but I
made him promise not to tell his family where these things came from, on
pain of not getting any more. I said I had as good right to contribute
to the church as any one, and just because I had no money it was tough
to have the little I could give made public.
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