"'Pears to me Moses you have a lot of business agoin' on. Hope you
ain't writin' to any girls but Melindy. You know anything I despise
is a young man a-flirtin' with every girl he sees, and besides its
not what any honest man would do. It's well enough for them 'ere
city chaps that thinks no more of their word than eating their
supper, to be runnin' arter every piece of calicer they see, but I
tell you none of the Spriggins is agoin' to do it."
Mrs. Spriggins evidently meant what she said if one could judge from
her vehemence, her snapping eyes and sharp tongue.
"Don't be skeered of me a flirtin' mother, I'll stick to Melindy
while there's a button to my coat," said Moses trying hard to look
very dignified.
"Well, what is all of 'em letters about?"
"What letters mother?" queried Moses, with the evident delight of
extorting a confession.
"Why as I was a-hangin' up your Sunday trousers some of 'em fell out
and I couldn't help a-lookin' at the writin' on the back.
"From as fine a gentleman as ever walked the streets of St. John,"
cried Moses quite emphatically.
"What's comin' next! You, Moses Spriggins of Mill Crossin', a ritin'
letters to a gentleman.
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