LINDSAY You ain't got nairn to feed—You better go hunt another dead dog and git some mo' teeth. Great big ole empty mouf, and no cheers in de parlar.
SISTER TAYLOR I kin git all de teeth I wants—I'd ruther not have no cheers in my parlor than to have them ole snags you got in yo' mouf. I'd ruther gum it out.
LINDSAY You don't ruther gum it out, you hafta gum it out. You ain't got no teeth. Dey better send out to dat ole mule and git you some teethes.
SISTER LEWIS Joe Lindsay, don't you know no better than to strain wid folks ain't got sense enough to tote guts to a bean? If they ain't born wid no sense you cna't learn 'em none.
LINDSAY You sho done tole whut God love now. (Glaring across the aisle) Ain't got enough gumption to kill a buzzard.
(Enter Lum by front door with gavel in one hand and mule bone in the other. He walks importantly up the aisles and hands Clarke the gavel and lays the bone atop the pulpit.)
CLARKE (rapping sharply with gavel) Here! You moufy wimmen shut up. (to Lum) Lum, go on back there and shut dem wimmen up or put 'em outa here.
(Lum starts walking importantly down the aisle towards Sister Taylor. she almost rises to meet him.)
SISTER TAYLOR Lum Boger, you fresh little snot you! Don't you dast to come here trying to put me out—Many diapers as I done pinned on you! Git way from me befo' I knock every nap off of yo' head, one by one.
(Lum hurries away from her apologetically. He turns towards Mrs.
Lewis.)