_Widow_--Shet yer head, Tim Crane; nun o' yer sass to me. _There's_ your hat on that are table, and _here's_ the door; and the sooner you put on _one_ and march out o' t'other the better it will be for you. And I advise you, afore you try to git married ag'in, to go out West and see 'f yer wife's cold; and arter yer satisfied on that p'int, jest put a little lampblack on yer hair,--'twould add to yer appearance, undoubtedly, and be of sarvice tew you when you want to flourish round among the gals; and when ye've got yer hair fixt, jest splinter the spine o' your back,--'twouldn't hurt your looks a mite: you'd be intirely unresistible if you was a _leetle_ grain straiter. _Mr. C._--Well, I never! _Widow_--Hold your tongue, you consarned old coot you! I tell you _there's_ your hat, and _there's_ the door: be off with yerself, quick metre, or I'll give ye a h'ist with the broomstick. _Mr. C._--Gimmeni! _Widow_ (rising)--Git out, I say! I ain't a-gwine to stan' here and be insulted under my own ruff; and so git along; and if ever you darken my door ag'in, or say a word to Melissy, it'll be the wuss for you,--that's all. _Mr. C._--Treemenjous! What a buster! _Widow_--Go 'long,--go 'long,--go long, you everlastin' old gum! I won't hear another word (stops her ears). I won't. I won't. I won't. (Exit Mr. Crane.) * * * * * (Enter Melissy, accompanied by Captain Canoot.) Good-evenin', cappen! Well, Melissy, hum at last, hey? Why didn't you stay till mornin'? Purty business keepin' me up here so late waitin' for you, when I'm eny-most tired to death iornin' and workin' like a slave all day,--ought to ben abed an hour ago. Thought ye left me with agreeable company, hey? I should like to know what arthly reason you had to s'pose old Crane's was agreeable to me? I always despised the critter; always thought he was a turrible fool, and now I'm convinced on't. I'm completely dizgusted with him; and I let him know it to-night. I gin him a piece o' my mind't I guess he'll be apt to remember for a spell. I ruther think he went off with a flea in his ear. Why, cappen, did ye ever hear of such a piece of audacity in all yer born days? for him--_Tim Crane_--to durst to expire to my hand,--the widder o' Deacon Bedott! Jest as if _I_'d condescen' to look at _him_,--the old numskull! He don't know B from a broomstick; but if he'd 'a' stayed much longer I'd 'a' teached him the difference, I guess. He's got his _walkin'-ticket_ now. I hope he'll lemme alone in futur'. And where's Kier? Gun home with the Cranes, hey! Well, I guess it's the last time. And now, Melissy Bedott, you ain't to have nothin' more to dew with them gals,--d'ye hear? You ain't to 'sociate with 'em at all arter this: 'twould only be incurridgin' the old man to come a-pesterin' me ag'in; and I won't have him round,--d'ye hear? Don't be in a hurry, cappen, and don't be alarmed at my gettin' in such a passion about old Crane's persumption.