Mrs. Barney.—Well, so they did me, Mis’ Reed. I always did despise a hound-dog upon the face of yea’th.
Mrs. Reed.—Oh, they are the bawllinest, squallinest, thievishest things ever was about one; but Billy will have ’em, and I think in my soul his old Troup’s the beat of all creaters I ever seed in all my born days a-suckin’ o’ hen’s eggs. He’s clean most broke me up entirely.
Mrs. Shad.—The lackaday!
Mrs. Reed.—And them that was hatched out, some took to takin’ the gaps, and some the pip, and one ailment or other, till they most all died. . . .
Mrs. Barney.—I reckon they must have eat something didn’t agree with them.
Mrs. Reed.—No, they didn’t, for I fed ’em every mornin’ with my own hand.
Mrs. Barney.—Well, it’s mighty curious!
A short pause ensued, which was broken by Mrs. Barney with, “And brother Smith married Mournin’ Hooer!”
FOOTNOTE:
[9] By special kindness of Mr. Charles Edgeworth Jones, Augusta, Ga.