"Come to think of it, don't believe it is."
"M—m—m—might r—r—r—rain, soon."
"Yes, and it looks like we mout have snow some time next winter."
"Thank y—y—y—you," said Mose; and as Margaret entered and handed him the cup of vinegar he thanked her, rewarded her with a grin, and departed. For some time after his exit nothing was said, but finally Margaret, standing near the window, began to look for the ends of the broken thread of discourse.
"Now, let me see."
To help her out Starbuck volunteered his services. "We had got to whar I was the biggest fool when I tried. Don't you ricolleck?"
"Oh, you want to git back to whar you was tryin' to pick a quarrel with me, do you?"
"No, jest thought I'd help you out."
"It's no sich of a thing. You know you don't love me an' you jest want a chance to tell me so."
"Did it ever hit you, Margaret, that a woman ought to put herself in a condition to be loved? Scoldin' don't fetch out love no mo' than b'ilin' water would fetch out blossoms."