in the c’mmunity.  Seems to me thirteen was a good many to wait afore thinkin’ o’ me anyhow, ‘n’ I ain’t noways sure ’s I want a thirteenth baby named after me anyway.  I never was foolish like some folks, ‘n’ you know that ’s well ’s I do, Mrs. Lathrop, but still you know, too, ‘s it’s never nothin’ but safe to keep away fr’m the under side o’ ladders ‘n’ the number thirteen.  I ’ve heard Gran’ma Mullins tell a dozen times ’s how ’f she ’d never ‘a’ gone picnickin’ on twice thirteen—­that’s twenty-six—­o’ July she ’d never ‘a’ met her husband, ‘n’ might o’ married Deacon White.  They was both after her, ‘n’ she picked out the wrong one, ‘n’ first he went to the war ‘n’ then he went to the dogs, ‘n’ now there she is in a four-room cottage ‘n’ Deacon White’s wife orderin’ a patent ice-box out o’ a catalogue ‘n’ him never sayin’ a word.  She c’d ‘a’ took a world o’ comfort with his daughter, ‘n’ I don’t believe she takes none to speak o’ with Hiram, ‘n’ anyway I was clean put out with the minister afore I even see him, f’r I can’t abide that way he ‘n’ his wife’s both got o’ talkin’ ‘n’ talkin’ ‘n’ never gettin’ aroun’ to sayin’ what they set out to.  I like folks ’s is right quick ‘n’ sharp, ‘n’ these roamin’, meanderin’ kind o’ everlastin’ talkers ain’t my idea a tall.  ‘N’ I ’m free to confess ’s I did get some tempered to-day standin’ there listenin’ to what did n’t interest me no more ’n a pussy-willow, ‘n’ me wild to be rootin’ up garret all the time.

“O’ course he had to tell me all about the baby, ‘n’ how Felicia Hemans is jus’ come to the silly readin’ age ‘n’ ’s wild to name it Brunhilde.  Seems ’s Felicia Hemans is out for Brunhilde ‘n’ the minister’s out f’r me.  I never hear o’ no Brunhilde, ‘n’ I up ‘n’ told the minister so to his face.  ‘Who is she anyhow?’ I says, flat ‘n’ plain, for Lord knows ’f he’d found a rich relation I wanted my old flannels for cleanin’ cloths hereafter.  But he ’xplained ’s Felicia Hemans got Brunhilde out o’ a book—­the Nibble suthin’ ’r other.  ’Oh, well,’ I says, ‘if you c’n be suited with namin’ your family after rats ‘n’ mice I guess you c’n leave me out,’ I says, ‘n’ I kind o’ backed off so ’s to try ‘n’ set him a-goin’, but he stood still, ‘n’ o’ course no true Christian c’n shut her door in her minister’s face—­even ‘f she is stark crazy to get to cleanin’ her garret.  ’Why don’t you name her Minnie after yourself?’ I says (Minister, you know), but I c’d see ’t he didn’t take to that a tall.  ‘Oh, well,’ I says then, feelin’ ‘t I must get rid o’ him somehow, ’name her after me ’f you want to ‘n’ I’ll give her—­’’n’ I was jus’ goin’ to say ’my blessin’,’ ‘n’ such a look come over his face ’n’—­well, Mrs. Lathrop, maybe I ‘m too tender-hearted f’r my own good, but I jus’ had the feelin’ ’t I c’d ‘s easy pull the legs off o’ a live fly ’s to disapp’int that face, ‘n’ so I says ‘a dollar’ right off quick before I really thought.  ‘N’ what do you think?—­what do you think?