"Somebody's a hollerin' helloa," said Margaret, grinding her coffee by the fire-place.
Jasper went to the door.
"Helloa, that you, Gabe?"
"What's left of me," a voice replied.
"Won't you light an' look at yo' saddle?"
"No, don't believe I got time. Was goin' down to town an' didn't know but you mout want to send fur suthin'."
"No, don't believe I'm pinched for anythin' at present."
"You might tell him to fetch me a newspaper," said Margaret.
"Wife 'lows you might fetch her a newspaper, Gabe."
"What sorter one?"