And he comes over closet to me and looks me all over like I was one of them amphimissourian lizards in a free museum.

And then he goes to the foot of the stairs and sings out in a voice that was so bleached-out and flat-chested it would of looked jest like him himself if you could of saw it--"Estelle," he sings out, "oh, Estelle!" Estelle, she come down stairs looking like she was the perfessor's big brother.

I found out later she was his old maid sister.

She wasn't no spring chicken, Estelle wasn't, and they was a continuous grin on her face.

I figgered it must of froze there years and years ago.