"Jasper," said Laz, "I didn't know you could write."
"Wall," the old man drawled, "I kain't write as putty as the county clerk, but I kin write as big. So you like it, ma'm?"
"Yes, Uncle Jasper."
"Wall," said he, looking at his work, "it's the truth, an' thar ain't nuthin' skeercer than truth on grave-yard rocks."
Margaret came out of the house. "Howdy, Laz."
"Ain't runnin' no foot races, but so as to be about."
"Folks all as well as usual?"
"Ain't hearn no loud complaint."
"Miz Mayfield," said Margaret, "Kintchin fotch me a letter from the post-office this mornin' an' as my eyes ain't right good to-day, I wish you'd come in an' read it to me."
"Yes, gladly."