If they get
themselves into such a mess"--Mrs Murchison stopped to
laugh with sincere enjoyment--"they needn't look to me
to get them out."
"I guess you'd have a hand, Mother."
"Not I. But the man isn't thinking of any such folly.
What do you suppose his salary is?"
"Eight hundred and fifty dollars a year. They raised it
last month."
"And how far would Advena be able to make that go, with
servants getting the money they do and expecting the
washing put out as a matter of course? Do you remember
Eliza, John, that we had when we were first married?
Seven dollars a month she got; she would split wood at
a pinch, and I've never had one since that could do up
shirts like her. Three years and a half she was with me,
and did everything, everything I didn't do. But that was
management, and Advena's no manager. It would be me that
would tell him, if I had the chance. Then he couldn't
say he hadn't been warned. But I don't think he has any
such idea."
"Advena," pronounced Mr Murchison, "might do worse."
"Well, I don't know whether she might. The creature is
well enough to preach before a congregation. But what
she can see in him out of the pulpit is more than I know.
A great gawk of a fellow, with eyes that always look as
if he were in the middle of next week! He may be able to
talk to Advena, but he's no hand at general conversation;
I know he finds precious little to say to me.
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