But I see then that even these roundabout hints wouldn’t be took. I see how hard it was to mollyfy him about Molly, and I hastened to continue on.
“As I was a sayin’, I wouldn’t make Tirzah Ann kiss folks promiscous when she was a child, and when she grew up sort of bashful like, it didn’t trouble me, for I knew her little dainty, timid, modest ways was jest like the blush on a peach or a bunch of grapes; if that got brushed off by rough handlin’, all the world couldn’t never put it back again. As I said, she never had no drawin’ towards balls and promiscous parties, and runnin’ off nights away from home. And though I don’t consider it the height of wickedness at all, still it didn’t worry me a bit to have her contented and willin’ to stay to home. She said home was the pleasantest spot in the world to her, and so Thomas J. said. Josiah and I did our best to make home pleasant to the childern; we had all sorts of virtuous and harmless games, music and etcetery, to make ’em happy—and they _was_ happy. We worked hard to git ’em headed right—and they did head right; and when a likely young man come along that loved Tirzah Ann, and she him, why we give our consent, jest as in my opinion certain persons ort to have the free and full consent of a certain Deacon.”
I _would_ give him a blind hint once in a while, if he took my head off; but I see by his looks that it wouldn’t do to come out plain jest yet, so I went on:
“I tried to make myself a sort of a mate to my Tirzah Ann, brought her up so’s not to feel awe-struck, and afraid of me; afraid to confide all her little tribulations and worryments to me.” Says I, “We worked head work to keep ’em good and happy; Josiah and me did.”
The Deacon had sot for the last several moments with his head right up in the air, and his eyes rolled up so I couldn’t see much besides the whites of ’em, and as I stopped a few moments (for truly my breath had give out, my deep principle tone uses up breath dretful fast) he groaned out; “_Works._”
But I says mildly, “don’t you believe in works?”
“No I don’t, I believe in faith; you seem to lay out to be saved by works.” And again he spoke out that “works,” as if it was the meanest thing he ever heerd on; he lifted up his nose in as unbelievin, and scornful a way as I ever see a nose lifted up.