"If you'd heard her talk about that trip north when there weren't any men around listening, you'd change your mind.
Bud Birnie, you are the SIMPLEST creature! You think, because a woman doesn't make a fuss over things, she doesn't mind.

Your mother told me that it was a perfect nightmare.

She taught you music just in the hope that you'd go back to civilization and live there where there are some modern improvements, and she could visit you! And here you are--all rapped up in a bunch of young stock, dirty as pig and your whiskers--ow! Bud! Stop that immediatly, or I'll go put my face in a cactus just for relief!" "Maybe you're dissatisfied yourself with my bunch of cattle.

Maybe you didn't go in raptures over our aim and make more plans in a day than four men could carry out in a year.

Maybe you wish your husband was a man that was content to pound piano keys all his life and let his hair grow long instead of his whiskers.