You ain't goin' to marry William Berry.

Your brother has had enough to do with that family." "Mother, you won't stop my marrying William because Barney won't marry his cousin Charlotte?
There ain't any sense in that." "I've got my reasons, an' that's enough for you," said Deborah.

"You ain't goin' to marry William Berry." "I am, if you haven't got any better reason than that.

I won't stand it, mother; it ain't right!" Rebecca cried out.
"Then," said Deborah, and as she spoke she began spooning out the toast gravy into a bowl with a curious stiff turn of her wrist and a superfluous vigor of muscle, as if it were molten lead instead of milk; and, indeed, she might, from the look in her face, have been one of her female ancestors in the times of the French and Indian wars, casting bullets with the yells of savages in her ears--"then," said she, "I sha'n't have any child but Ephraim left, that's all!" "Mother, don't!" gasped Rebecca.
"There's another thing: if you marry William Berry against your parents' wishes, you know what you have to expect.

You remember your aunt Rebecca." Rebecca twisted her whole body about with the despairing motion with which she would have wrung her hands, flung open the door, and ran out of the room.
Deborah went on spooning up the toast.