Let's hear all about it.
"I'm not at liberty to tell you jest now mother, I'm sorry to say,
but it's all right."
"Am I in my sober senses or am I in a nightmare? (No, there's Mose
as nateral as life.)" Then pointing her finger at the supposed
culprit Mrs. Spriggins exclaimed: "I tell you what it is Moses
Spriggins it's nothin' very good that you're ahidin' from your own
mother. Got into them lawyer's clutches at last? Ye used ter say ye
liked law and if I'm as good a prophet as I think I ort to be you'll
get enough of it. Like as not the farm and the stock and all the
utensils will go afore long. Oh dear me!"
Mrs. Spriggins now stopped for want of breath and fawning herself
violently with the bottom of her blue gingham apron made a second
onslaught.
"I tell ye what it is Mose there is no good comin' of this 'ere
gallivantin' to town every t'other day, anyhow."
"Mother, if you would only have patience a few minits I might make
some explanation, but you seem to want to have it your own way,"
said Moses, who had now determined to venture a word or two in his
defence.
"Be keerful, Moses, how you speak to your own mother. It's time I
_had_ everything my own way, when other folks can't manage
their own affairs," said Mrs.
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