"Land sakes, dear!" replied her husband. "D'ye think ye kin manage it?
Will they listen to ye? Ye're only a woman, remember, an' what kin a woman
do?"
"Yes, I'm only a woman, John, an' mebbe 'tain't a woman's place. But when
men are too scart an' heven't as much spunk as a chicken jist outer the
shell, what else is thar to do? Is thar no one in the hull parish to stan'
up fer the Lord's anointed? Tell me that. Didn't that beautiful Queen
Ester stan' before her crank of a husband, Hazen Hearus, an' plead fer the
lives of her people? An' didn't Jael do the Lord's will when she put old
Sirseree outer the way, tell me that? Now, I ain't a queen like Ester, an'
I hope I ain't a woman like Jael that 'ud drive a nail through a man's
head. I'm jist plain old Marthy Stickles, but mebbe I kin do somethin' fer
the Lord, even if I ain't purty or clever."
An hour later an old, lean horse fastened to a homemade pung was wending
its way slowly along the road leading to the river. Holding the reins was
Sammy, a queer little figure, wrapped from head to foot, bravely
maintaining his precarious position on six inches of the end of the board
seat.
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