"What are we all a comin' to?" Margaret sighed, sitting back in her chair.
Laz continued: "Didn't have no rope, so he hung hisse'f with a grape vine."
Starbuck shook his head. "Oh, you kin put a grape vine to mo' uses than one."
Margaret turned upon him. "Jasper, I wouldn't make light of it."
"I ain't a makin' light of it—can't make nuthin' of it. Laz, kin you think of any other little thing that's happened to fret yo' neighborhood?"
"Believe not, nothin' wuth dividin'. Did hear that Tobe Walsh war kicked to death by a mule. Didn't put much faith in it, though."
"But was it true?"
"Yes. The mule got him. Buried ter-day."
"Oh, isn't that sad," Margaret wailed. "And he leaves a young wife, too."
"Better than to leave an old one," said Jasper. "The young widder, you know, kin smile through her grief."