She reached out her hand for the skillet.
"That spider isn't clean in the least," said she.
"Oh, well," apologized Tom Osby, leaning back against the wagon wheel and beginning to fill a pipe.

"I suppose there might be just a leetle sand left in it, but that don't hurt.

Do you want a dish towel?
Here's one that I've used for two years, freightin' from Vegas to Heart's Desire.
Me and it's old friends." "Let your dishes dry in the sun if you can't do better than that," reproved Constance.

"Ah, you men!" "You're right hard to get along with, ma'am.

Us gettin' you two breakfasts, too!" They looked into each other's faces and Constance laughed.