Yas; I always think of her little picture with a bunch o’ them old-fashioned garden pinks a settin’ under it, an’ there they’ll stay ez long ez my old mind is a fitten place for sech sweet-scented pictures to hang in.
They’ve been a pleasure to me all my life, an’ I’m glad to see Sonny’s a-startin’ his little picture-gallery a’ready.
That you, doctor? Hitch up, an’ come right in.
You say Sonny called by an’ ast you to drop in to see me?
But I ain’t sick. I’m thess settin’out here on the po’ch, upholstered with pillers this-a-way on account o’ the spine o’ my back feelin’ sort o’ porely. The way I ache—I reckon likely ez not it’s a-fixin’ to rain. Ef I don’t seem to him quite ez chirpy I ought to be, why Sonny he gets oneasy an’ goes for you, an’ when I object—not thet I ain’t always glad to see you, doctor—why, he th’ows up to me thet that’s the way we always done about him when de was in his first childhood. An’ ef you ricollec’—why, it’s about true. He says he’s boss now, an’ turn about is fair play.
My pulse ain’t no ways discordant, is it? No, I thought not. Of co’se, ez you say, I s’pose it’s sort o’ different to a younger person’s, an’ then I’ve been so worked up lately thet my heart’s bound to be more or less frustrated, and Sonny says a person’s heart reg’lates his pulse.
I reckon I ain’t ez strong ez I ought to be, maybe, or I wouldn’t cry so easy ez what I do. I been settin’ here, pretty near boo-hoo-in’ for the last half-hour, over the weddin’ presents Sonny has thess been a-givin’ me.
Last week it was a daughter, little Mary Elizabeth—an’ now it’s his book.
They was to ’ve come together. The book was printed and was to ’ve been received here on Sonny’s weddin’-day, but it didn’t git in on time. But I counted it in ez one o’ my weddin’ presents from Sonny, give to me on the occasion of his marriage, thess the same, though I didn’t know about the inscription thet he’s inscribed inside it tell it arrived—an’ I’m glad I didn’t.
Ef I’d ’ve knew that day, when my heart was already in my win’-pipe, thet he had give out to the world by sech a printed declaration ez that thet he had to say dedicated all his work in life, in advance, to my ol’ soul, I couldn’t no mo’ ‘ve kep’ up my behavior ‘n nothin’.
I’m glad you think I don’t need no physic, doctor. I never was no hand to swaller medicine when I was young, and the obnoxion seems to grow on me ez I git older.
Not all that toddy? You’ll have me in a drunkard’s grave yet,—you an’ Sonny together,—ef I don’t watch out.
That nutmeg gives it a mighty good flavor, doc’. Ef any thing ever does make me intemp’rate, why, it’ll be the nutmeg an’ sugar thet you all smuggle the liquor to me in.
It does make me see clairer, I vow it does, either the nutmeg or the sperit, one.