I d' 'no ez thet 'ud go with it pitickler.
Haw! haw!" Hilda kept her eyes on her plate, determined to pay no attention to the vulgar pleasantries of this unkempt monster.

It was hard enough to eat with a steel fork, without being further tormented.

But the farmer seemed determined to drag her into conversation.
"How's yer ha-alth in gineral, Huldy?
Pooty rugged, be ye?
Seems to me ye look kin' o' peaked." "I am quite well!" It was Queen Hildegarde who spoke now, in icy tones; but her coldness had no effect on her loquacious host.
"I s'pose ye'll want ter lay by a day or two, till ye git used ter things, like; but then I sh'll want ye ter take holt.

We're short-handed now, and a smart, likely gal kin be a sight o' help.

There's the cows ter milk--the' ain't but one o' them thet's real ugly, and _she_ only kicks with the off hind-leg; so 't's easy enough ter look out for her." Hilda looked up in horror and amazement, and caught a twinkle in the farmer's eye which told her that he was quizzing her.