“Now, Maw,” says Sands, “can’t a feller look around a bit?”
“He kin look after he splits,” she says. “Lift that there ax.”
He lifted it.
“Now chop.”
He chopped.
“Howdy, Mr. Jones?” says I.
He dropped his ax and looked at me kind of pleased.
“I come to talk business to you—paintin’ business,” says I.
“You chop,” says Mrs. Jones.
“How kin I chop and talk business, Maw? My perfession hain’t choppin’, it’s paintin’. Now hain’t it, Maw? You can say no other ways if you was to try.”