Sundays his do'yard looked like a militia muster.

They told it on him that he hadn't cut a stick of wood since Polly was risin' twelve.

I reckon, without exaggeration, I fit every unmarried man in that end of the county, and two lookin' widowers from Nashville.

I served notice on to them that I'd attend to that woodpile of old man Rhett's fo' the future; that I was qualifying fo' to be his son-in-law, and seekin' his indorsement as a provider.

I took 'em on one at a time as they happened along, and lambasted 'em all over the place.