"'Don't do that, Dan! You'll mebby give her something. In Mother Shrewsbury's "What Ails Babies and Why" it's laid down emphatic that you mustn't kiss 'em.'
"'But you kisses her,' retorts Boggs.
"'Me? But I'm her uncle. Besides, I only kisses her hands. Which I'll permit you-all to kiss her hands, Dan, if that'll do you. Only don't you go to overplay it none. Don't forget that hands is the limit, an' it's thar whar you gets off.'
"'Which I ain't none shore,' says Boggs, who's some hurt, as he's talkin' the thing over with Enright an' Cherokee in the Red Light––'which I ain't none shore but Texas is right; only he oughtn't to throw out them rooles of health of his so plumb offensive. You'd have 277 reckoned from the row he makes I'm eatin' Annalinda.'
"Another time Boggs gives Annalinda his six-shooter to play with, she havin' deemanded it with screams. Texas comes steamin' up.
"'Dan,' he cries, grabbin' the weepon from Annalinda, 'sometimes I asks myse'f in all ser'ousness be you got common sense! Is this yere a snare you're settin' for this innocent child? Do you-all want her to blow her head plumb off?'
"'But, Texas,' Boggs expostyoolates, 'thar ain't a chance. How's she goin' to cock that gun, an' the mainspring fifteen pounds resistance?'
"'But she might drop it.'
"'Which, if she does, it can't go off none; I sets the hammer between two shells on purpose.'
"'Whoever's bringin' up this yere baby, you or me?' Texas deemands, as he tosses Boggs his gun. 'Please don't pass her no more artillery. If it's got to whar her existence is goin' to be a failure onless she's foolin' with a gun, I as her uncle preefers to furnish said hardware myse'f.'