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and his second best, and how carefully the first had to be kept under lock and key, where he could not get at them; for he was understood, good as he was, to have concealed in him all the thriftless and pernicious inconsiderateness of the male nature, ready at any moment to break out into unheard-of improprieties. But the good man submitted himself to Miss Emily's rule, and suffered himself to be led about by her with an air of half whimsical consciousness. Mrs. Kittridge that day had felt the full delicacy of the compliment when she ascertained by a hasty glance, before the first prayer, that the good man had been brought out to her funeral in all his very best things, not excepting the long silk stockings, for she knew the second-best pair by means of a certain skillful darn which Miss Emily had once shown her, which commemorated the spot where a hole had been. The absence of this darn struck to Mrs. Kittridge's heart at once as a delicate attention. "Mis' Simpkins," said Mrs. Kittridge to her pastor, as they were seated at the tea-table, "told me that she wished when you were going home that you would call in to see Mary Jane; she couldn't come out to the funeral on account of a dreffle sore throat. I was tellin' on her to gargle it with blackberry-root tea--don't you think that is a good gargle, Mr. Sewell?" "Yes, I think it a very good gargle," replied the minister, gravely. "Ma'sh rosemary is the gargle that I always use," said Miss Roxy; "it cleans out your throat so." "Marsh rosemary is a very excellent gargle," said Mr. Sewell. "Why, brother, don't you think that rose leaves and vitriol is a good gargle?" said little Miss Emily; "I always thought that you liked rose leaves and vitriol for a gargle." "So I do," said the imperturbable Mr. Sewell, drinking his tea with the air of a sphinx. "Well, now, you'll have to tell which on 'em will be most likely to cure Mary Jane," said Captain Kittridge, "or there'll be a pullin' of caps, I'm thinkin'; or else the poor girl will have to drink them all, which is generally the way." "There won't any of them cure Mary Jane's throat," said the minister, quietly. "Why, brother!" "Why, Mr. Sewell!" "Why, you don't!" burst in different tones from each of the women. "I thought you said that blackberry-root tea was good," said Mrs. Kittridge. "I understood that you 'proved of ma'sh rosemary," said Miss Roxy, touched in her professional pride. "And
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