"You'll excuse me, Madam."
"No, I won't: not if you don't come and sit down quiet. Bless the
man, I'm not going to eat 'ee--wouldn't harm a hair of your dear
little head, if you had any! What? You refuse?"
"How dare you, Madam!" The preacher drew himself up, mighty
dignified. "How dare you address me in this fashion!"
"I'm addressin' you for your good," answered Sally. "We've been
talkin' over your sermon, me and my friends here--all very
respectable women--and we've made up our minds that it won't do.
We can't have it 'pon our conscience to let a gentleman with your
views go kicking up Jack's delight through the West. We owe
something more to our sex. 'Wrestlin' with 'em--that was one of your
expressions--'wrestlin' with our dear Cornish sisters'!"
"In the spirit--a figure of speech," explained the poor man,
snappy-like.
Sal shook her head. "They know all about wrestlin' down yonder.
I tell you, 'twon't do. You're a well-meaning man, no doubt; but
you're terribly wrong on some points. You'd do an amazing amount of
mischief if we let you run loose. But we couldn't take no such
responsibility--indeed we couldn't: and the long and short of it is,
you've got to go.
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