Inq. Blast your turkeys!
Mrs. T. Oh, don’t now, good Mr. Hipper-stitcher, I pray you don’t. They’re as honest turkeys as any in the country.
Inq. Don’t vex me any more. I’m getting to be angry.
Mrs. T. Ha! ha! ha!
Inq. [striding about the room in a rage.] Have a care, madam, or I shall fly out of my skin.
Mrs T. If you do, I don’t know who will fly in.
Inq. You do all you can to anger me. It’s the two-legged creatures who talk I have reference to.
Mrs. T. Oh, now I understand you. Well then, our Poll Parrot makes seven and the black gal eight.
Inq. I see you will have your own way.
Mrs. T. You have just found out, have you! You are a smart little man!