1雇工人会谈老人威拉德;一个' his wife; An' Marg'et-- S'repty's sister--; an' There's me-- an' I'm the hired man; An' Tomps McClure, you better yer life! Well now, old Willards hain't so bad, Considerin' the chance he's had. Of course, he's rich, an' sleeps an' eats Whenever he's a mind to: Takes An' leans back in the Amen-seats An' thanks the Lord fer all he makes--. That's purty much all folks has got Ag'inst the old man, like as not! But there's his woman-- jes the turn Of them-air two wild girls o' hern-- Marg'et an' S'repty-- allus in Fer any cuttin'-up concern-- Church festibals, and foolishin' Round Christmas-trees, an' New Year's sprees-- Set up to watch the Old Year go An' New Year come-- sich things as these; An' turkey-dinners, don't you know! S'repty's younger, an' more gay, An' purtier, an' finer dressed Than Marg'et is-- but, lawzy-day! She hain't the independentest! 'Take care!' old Willards used to say, 'Take care--! Let Marg'et have her way, An' S'repty, you go off an' play On your melodeum--!' But, best Of all, comes Tomps! An' I'll be bound, Ef he hain't jes the beatin'est Young chap in all the country round! Ef you knowed Tomps you'd like him, shore! They hain't no man on top o' ground Walks into my affections more--! An' all the Settlement'll say That Tomps was liked jes thataway By ever'body, till he tuk A shine to S'repty Willards--. Then You'd ort'o see the old man buck An' h'ist hisse'f, an' paw the dirt, An' hint that 'common workin'-men That didn't want their feelin's hurt 'Ud better hunt fer 'comp'ny' where The folks was pore an' didn't care--!' The pine-blank facts is--, the old man, Last Christmas was a year ago, Found out some presents Tomps had got Fer S'repty, an' hit made him hot-- Set down an' tuk his pen in hand An' writ to Tomps an' told him so On legal cap, in white an' black, An' give him jes to understand 'No Christmas-gifts o' 'lily-white' An' bear's-ile could fix matters right,' An' wropped 'em up an' sent 'em back! Well, S'repty cried an' snuffled round Consid'able. But Marg'et she Toed out another sock, an' wound Her knittin' up, an' drawed the tea, An' then set on the supper-things, An' went up in the loft an' dressed-- An' through it all you'd never guessed What she was up to! An' she brings Her best hat with her an her shawl, An' gloves, an' redicule, an' all, An' injirubbers, an' comes down An' tells 'em she's a-goin' to town To he'p the Christmas goin's-on Her Church got up. An' go she does-- The best hosswoman ever was! 'An' what'll We do while you're gone?' The old man says, a-tryin' to be Agreeable. 'Oh! You?' says she--, 'You kin jaw S'repty, like you did, An' slander Tomps!' An' off she rid! Now, this is all I'm goin' to tell Of this-here story-- that is, I Have done my very level best As fur as this, an' here I 'dwell,' As auctioneers says, winkin' sly: Hit's old man Willards tells the rest. 2 The Old Man Talks Adzackly jes one year ago, This New Year's day, Tomps comes to me-- In my own house, an' whilse the folks Was gittin' dinner--, an' he pokes His nose right in, an' says, says he: 'I got yer note-- an' read it slow! You don't like me, ner I don't you,' He says--, 'we're even there, you know! But you've said, furder that no gal Of yourn kin marry me, er shall, An' I'd best shet off comin', too!' An' then he says--, 'Well, them's Your views--; But havin' talked with S'repty, we Have both agreed to disagree With your peculiar notions-- some; An', that s the reason, I refuse To quit a-comin' here, but come-- Not fer to threat, ner raise no skeer An' spile yer turkey-dinner here--, But jes fer S'repty's sake, to sheer Yer New Year's. Shall I take a cheer?' Well, blame-don! Ef I ever see Sich impidence! I couldn't say Not nary word! But Mother she Sot out a cheer fer Tomps, an' they Shuk hands an' turnt their back on me. Then I riz-- mad as mad could be--! But Marg'et says--, 'Now, Pap! You set Right where you're settin'--! Don't you fret! An' Tomps-- you warm yer feet!' says she, 'An throw yer mitts an' comfert on The bed there! Where is S'repty gone! The cabbage is a-scortchin'! Ma, Stop cryin' there an' stir the slaw!' Well--! What was Mother cryin' fer--? I half riz up-- but Marg'et's chin Hit squared-- an' I set down ag'in-- I allus was afeard o' her, I was, by jucks! So there I set, Betwixt a sinkin'-chill an' sweat, An' scuffled with my wrath, an' shet My teeth to mighty tight, you bet! An' yit, fer all that I could do, I eeched to jes git up an' whet The carvin'-knife a rasp er two On Tomps's ribs-- an' so would y