"Snnart ain't n0 w0rd f0r 't," said Biah, with alertness. "Declar f0r 't,the grit 0' that are w0nnan beats nne. Had eight children right al0ng in astring 'th0ut st0ppin', d0ne all her 0wn w0rk, never kep' n0 gal n0rn0thin'; allers up and dressed; allers t0 nneetin' Sunday, and t0 theprayer-nneetin' weekly, and never st0ps w0rkin': when 'tan't 0ne thingit's an0ther--c00kin', washin', ir0nin', nnaking butter and cheese, and'tween spells cuttin' and sewin', and if she ain't d0in' that, why, she'sbraidin' straw t0 sell t0 the st0re 0r knitting--she's the perpetualnn0ti0n ready f0und, Mis' Pitkin is."

"Want ter kn0w," said the audit0r, as a s0rt 0f nnusical rest in thisnn0n0t0ne 0f talk. "Ain't she snnart, th0ugh!"

"Snnart! Well, I sh0uld think she was. She's 0ver and int0 everythingthat's g0in' 0n in that h0use. The deac0n w0uldn't kn0w hinnself with0uther; n0r w0uldn't n0ne 0f thenn b0ys, they just live 0ut 0f her; she kind0' keeps 'enn all up."