Giz. Well—if yer wanner see 'em—here they air.
[He takes the dirty, mashed box out of his hip pocket and hands it to the Doctor. The Doctor opens the box and smells the pills.]
Doctor. Ker'sene.... Smell 'em, Lut'er. [He holds the box close to Luter's nose.]
Lut'er [with the least possible expenditure of energy]. Uh!
Doctor. Ker'sene!... Well, I guess it's good for the liver, too.... Gimme one, Giz?
Giz. I ain't got so many I can be givin' 'em ter everybody.
Doctor. Jus' one, Giz.
Giz. She said I ought ter take 'em all fer a cure.
Lut'er. What yer got, Giz? [Calling a man by name is a great effort for Lut'er.]
Giz. Mostly a tired feelin' an' sometimes a crick in th' back. [Lut'er displays a sympathy undreamed of.]