This isn't surprising; Keturah's verbal cannonades are likely to make one forgetful of trifles.
At any rate, whether Tuesday or Wednesday, it is certain that it was quarter past twelve, according to the clock presented to the Methodist Society by the Honorable Heman Atkins, when Asaph Tidditt came down the steps of the townhall, after the selectmen's meeting, and saw Bailey Bangs waiting for him on the opposite side of the road.
"Hello, Ase!" hailed Mr.Bangs.

"You'll be late to dinner, if you don't hurry.

I was headin' for home, all sail sot, when I see you.

What kept you ?" "Town business, of course," replied Mr.Tidditt, with the importance pertaining to his official position.

"What kept YOU, for the land sakes?
Won't Ketury be in your wool ?" Bailey hasn't any "wool" worth mentioning now, and he had very little more then, but he mopped his forehead, or the extension above it, taking off his cap to do so.
"I cal'late she will," he said, uneasily.