Billy. Next to it. Married, and got eleven children.
Mrs. S. Impossible!
Billy. No, it ain’t. She scooped in a widower; children already made. Dey’re coming down to eat you out ob de house pretty soon.
Mrs. S. I do declare. How are all the rest of the folks?
Billy. You know Squire Jawbone?
Mrs. S. Oh, yes.
Billy. He’s gone to join the band.
Mrs. S. What band?
Billy. De ole man’s skipped de golden gutter. He’s passed in his checks, an’ got off de cars. He is dead!
Mrs. S. Squire Jawbone dead!