He had been calmly prosaic with regard to Miss Farrel's death.

"They can talk all they want to about murder and suicide," he had said to Sylvia.

"I don't believe a word of it." "But the doctors found--" began Sylvia.
"Found nothing," interposed Henry.

"What do doctors know?
She et something that hurt her.

How do doctors know but what anybody might eat something that folks think is wholesome, that, if the person ain't jest right for it, acts like poison?
Doctors don't know much.
She et something that hurt her." "Poor Lucinda's cooking is enough to hurt 'most anybody," admitted Sylvia; "but they say they found--" "Don't talk such stuff," said Henry, fiercely.