"What time is 't?" she said.
"Ten o'clock. What y' been dreamin' abaout? Y' giv a jump like a
hopper-grass. Wake up, wake UP! Th' party 's over, and y' been asleep
all the mornin'. The party's over, I tell ye! Wake up!"
"Over!" said Mrs. Sprowle, who began to define her position at
last,--"over! I should think 't was time 't was over! It's lasted a
hundud year. I've been workin' for that party longer 'n Methuselah's
lifetime, sence I been asleep. The pies would n' bake, and the blo'monje
would n' set, and the ice-cream would n' freeze, and all the folks kep'
comin' 'n' comin' 'n' comin',--everybody I ever knew in all my
life,--some of 'em 's been dead this twenty year 'n' more,--'n' nothin'
for 'em to eat nor drink. The fire would n' burn to cook anything, all
we could do. We blowed with the belluses, 'n' we stuffed in paper 'n'
pitch-pine kindlin's, but nothin' could make that fire burn; 'n' all the
time the folks kep' comin', as if they'd never stop,--'n' nothin' for 'em
but empty dishes, 'n' all the borrowed chaney slippin' round on the
waiters 'n' chippin' 'n' crackin',--I would n' go through what I been
through t'-night for all th' money in th' Bank,--I do believe it's harder
t' have a party than t'"--
Mrs.
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