“Yore chickens are fat and sassy, not a sign o’ pip on ’em.”
“Look at them cows in the fur pastur. Did yer ever see anything to beat ’em fer sleekness?”
“Wall, look at the pasture itself; it’s most enough to make human beings envy the critters. You didn’t have a drop of rain on yer while you was gettin’ in yer hay, did yer?”
“Not a drop.”
“An’ I had a whole lot ruined jest as I was about to rick it.”
“Silas, sich luck as I’m a-havin’ is achilly skeery; it don’t seem right.”
“No, it don’t seem right for a religious man like you, Nathan. Ef you was a hard an’ graspin’ Sinner, it ’ud be jest makin’ you top-heavy so’s yore fall ’ud be the greater.”
“I don’t know but what that’s it, anyhow. Mebbe I’m a-gettin’ puffed up over my goods without exactly knowin’ it.”
“Mebbe so, mebbe so. Them kind o’ feelin’s is mighty sneakin’ comin’ on a body. O’ course I ain’t seen no signs of it in you; but it ’pears to me you’ll have to mortify yore flesh yit to keep from being purse-proud.”