"'T ain't that!" The smoke rose high between the men.
"Heard how Mark Tapkins seems t' feel Jo G.'s gal's death?"
"I thought once 't was your Janet."
"Well, 't warn't." Billy felt justified in this denial, though at one time he had thought so himself.
"There don't seem t' be any one likely fur Janet hereabouts. A little larnin' spiles a gal, Billy."
"Is them yer sentimints?"
"They be."
"Well, folks differ. Janet pleases me."
"Yes, but ye can't 'spect to handle Janet's craft forever. She's got t' rely 'pon her own sailin' some day."