[The Hattie Brown and the whistle of the steam-mill indicate noon. Lut'er takes in the line—removes the fishing worm and puts it in his pocket.]
Doctor. Well, I'll make the salve an' do the talkin'; Giz'll sort o' whoop things up a bit and Lut'er'll git cured.
Lut'er. What'll I get cured of?
Doctor. Oh, lumbago an' tired feelin' ... crick in the back and tizic.
Lut'er. But who'll take a egg out o' somebody's ear?
Doctor. Giz'll learn that.
Lut'er [with a wan smile that memory illuminates.] An' who'll play the pianny?
Doctor. Besteena, my daughter.
Lut'er. Where we goin'?
Doctor. We'll go ter Lavanny first.