She got up, and as she was about to go to bed, saw her mother, and bade her good night.
"Good night, and go to bed like a good child.

Miss Alice says you may come to see her again to-morrow," Phillis replied.
Lydia was happy as a queen with this promise.

Aunt Phillis took her pipe, and her old station outside the door, to smoke.

Bacchus had his old, crazy, broken-backed chair out there already, and he was evidently resolving something in his mind of great importance, for he propped the chair far back on its one leg, and appeared to be taking the altitude of the mountains in the moon, an unfailing sign of a convulsion of some kind in the inner man.
"Phillis," said he, after a long silence, "do you know, it is my opinion that that old creature," pointing with his thumb to Aunt Peggy's house, "is so long used to grumblin' and fussin', that she can't, to save her life, lie still in her grave." "What makes you think so ?" said Phillis.
"Bekase, I believes in my soul she's back thar this minute." "People that drink, Bacchus, can't expect nothin' else than to be troubled with notions.

I was in hopes Aunt Peggy's death would have made you afeered to go on sinning.