And then the tin peddler's widow drifts in to upset the whole calabash.
"She made port at Orham fust, this Henrietta Bassett did, and the style she slung killed every female Goliath in the Orham sewin' circle dead.
Seems her husband that was had been an inventor, as a sort of side line to peddlin' tinware, and all to once he invented somethin' that worked.
He made money--nobody knew how much, though all hands had a guess--and pretty soon afterwards he made a will and Henrietta a widow.

She'd been livin' in New York, so she said, and had come back to revisit the scenes of her childhood.

She was a mighty well-preserved woman--artificial preservatives, I cal'late, like some kinds of tomatter ketchup--and her comin' stirred Orham way down to the burnt places on the bottom of the kettle." "I guess I remember HER, too," put in Captain Bailey.
"Say!" queried Mr.Wingate snappishly, "do you want to tell about her?
If you do, why--" "Belay, both of you!" ordered the depot master.

"Heave ahead, Barzilla." "The news of her got over to Wellmouth, and me and Jonadab heard of it.
He was some subject to widows--most widower men are, I guess--but he didn't develop no alarmin' symptoms in this case and never even hinted that he'd like to see his old girl.

Fact is, his newest horse trade had showed that it was afraid of automobiles, and he was beginnin' to get rabid along that line.