I aint rich, to be sure, but I'm respectable.

I don't drink nor chew, and I've got five hundred dollars laid away in the bank." "You're welcome to your five hundred dollars," said Fitz, in what was meant to be a tone of withering sarcasm.
"Am I?
Well, I'd orter be, considerin' I earned it by hard work.
Seems to me you've got high notions, Fitz.

Your mother was kind of flighty, and I've heard mine say Cousin Jim--that's your father--was mighty sot up by gettin' rich.

But seems to me you ought not to deny your own flesh and blood." "I don't know who you refer to, sir." "Why, you don't seem to want to own me as your cousin." "Of course not.

You're only a common tin-pedler." "Well, I know I'm a tin-pedler, but that don't change my bein' your cousin." "I wish my father was here to expose your falsehood." "Hold on there!" said Abner.