I reckoned the time 'd come when mebbe I'd git the laugh on the deakin, an' it did, an' we're putty well settled now in full." "You mean this last pufformance ?" asked Mrs.Bixbee.

"I wish you'd quit beatin' about the bush, an' tell me the hull story." "Wa'al, it's like this, then, if you _will_ hev it.

I was over to Whiteboro a while ago on a little matter of worldly bus'nis, an' I seen a couple of fellers halter-exercisin' a hoss in the tavern yard.

I stood 'round a spell watchin' 'em, an' when he come to a standstill I went an' looked him over, an' I liked his looks fust rate.
"'Fer sale ?' I says.
"'Wa'al,' says the chap that was leadin' him, 'I never see the hoss that wa'n't if the price was right.' "'Your'n ?' I says.
"'Mine an' his'n,' he says, noddin' his head at the other feller.
"'What ye askin' fer him ?' I says.
"'One-fifty,' he says.
"I looked him all over agin putty careful, an' once or twice I kind o' shook my head 's if I didn't quite like what I seen, an' when I got through I sort o' half turned away without sayin' anythin', 's if I'd seen enough.
"'The' ain't a scratch ner a pimple on him,' says the feller, kind o' resentin' my looks.

'He's sound an' kind, an' 'll stand without hitchin', an' a lady c'n drive him 's well 's a man."' "'I ain't got anythin' agin him,' I says, 'an' prob'ly that's all true, ev'ry word on't; but one-fifty's a consid'able price fer a hoss these days.