“Now, Jobe, we’ll go to Urope.”
“Well, hold on,” says Jobe, “lemme loose fust.”
“Not till we git through Urope,” says I, determined like.
“Well, shove off, then,” says he.
I did so by sayin:
“Jobe, would it skeer you if I was to tell you that the money what is good anywhere in the world is the very money that we as a people dont want?”
I put my elbows on my knees and leaned over and looked him square in the eyes to note the effect of my question.
He looked at me, starin like, for a whole minit.
Says I: “How does it strike you, Jobe?”
Says he: “Betsy, have you been a drinkin?”