"Was a settin' on a stump, drapped off to sleep an' the calf chawed it."
"I do wish you two would hush yo' foolishness," said Margaret. "How's yo' mother, Laz."
"Give her some interestin' news, Laz," said Starbuck. "Tell her the old lady ain't expected to live."
"Now did anybody ever hear the like o' that," Margaret retorted. "I never seed sich a man."
"Mother ain't so powerful well," said Laz. "She ain't bed sick, but she's a chillin' a good deal. Got the shakes when she went down to the creek bottoms. Can't eat nuthin' but spoon vittuls."
Margaret, dismissing the visitor from further attention, took up a coffee-mill and sat down near the fire-place. Starbuck asked Laz how his brother Bill was getting along since the fellow cut him with a knife, an affair of no particular consequence, but serving as an incidental topic for thoughtless talk.
"Sorter slow," said Laz, never changing a line of his countenance. His face was as fixed as a mask, stupid and expressionless. Whenever he smiled it was a neighborhood event.
"Wall, how did it happen, any way?" Starbuck inquired, biting an apple.
"Wall, Bill he war settin' thar on a log, lookin' out over the new ground, not a thinkin' about bein' stobbed nur nuthin', an' this feller jest slipped up an' stobbed him."
There came a hoarse cry from without.