"Well, I love to see folks make themselves to home; but ye don't sleep in no cabin o' mine till I know who ye be, an' what ye're arter."
"Jim, did you ever hear of entertaining angels unaware?" and Yates looked laughingly into his face.
"No, but I've hearn of angels entertainin' theirselves on tin-ware, an' I've had 'em here."
"Do you have tin peddlers here?" inquired Yates, looking around him.
"No, but we have paupers sometimes," and Jim looked Yates directly in the eye.
"What paupers?"
"From Sevenoaks."
"And do they bring tin-ware?"
"Sartin they do; leastways, one on 'em did, an' I never seen but one in the woods, an' he come here one night tootin' on a tin horn, an' blowin' about bein' the angel Gabrel. Do you see my har?"
"Rather bushy, Jim."