"Ah-h-h, how good it feels to get 'em off! Now light my pipe, Becky. Always when you light it, better it tastes. Hold—there—make out of your hand a cup—there—pu-pu-pu—there! Now sit down by me, Becky!"
"Move over."
"Ach, Becky, when we got our little home like this, with a yard so smooth as my hand, where we don't need shoes or collars, and with our own fruit right under our noses, for why ain't you satisfied?"
"For myself, Julius, believe me it's too good, but for Poil we—"
"Look all what you can see right here from our porch! Look there through the trees at the river; right in front of our eyes it bends for us. Look what a street we live on. We should worry it ain't in the booming part. Quiet like a temple, with trees on it older as you and me together."
"The caterpillars is bad this year, Julius; trees ain't so cheap, neither. In the city such worries they ain't got."
"For what with a place like this, Becky, with running water and—"
"It's Poil, Julius. Not a thing a beau-ti-fool girl like Poil has out here."
"Nonsense. It's a sin she should want a better place as this. Ain't she got a plush parlor and a piano and—"
"It's like Izzy says, Julius: there's too many fine goils in the city for the boys to come out here on a forty-five-minute ride. What boys has she got out here, Mike Donnely and—"