But it ain't got no pint.

Ef some of you boys has got a knife, ye kin put a pint to it." Uncle Braddock dived into the recesses of his dressing-gown, and produced a great jack-knife, with a crooked iron blade and a hickory handle.
"Look a-dar!" cried John William Webster.

"Uncle Braddock's a-gwine ter chop de pencil up fur kindlin'-wood." "None o' yer laughin' at dis knife," said Uncle Braddock, with a frown.
"I done made dis hyar knife mese'f." A better knife, however, was produced by Dick Ford, and the pencil was sharpened.

Then Gregory Montague stretched himself out on the floor, resting on his elbows, with the paper before him and the pencil in his hand.
"Is you ready ?" said Aunt Matilda.
"All right," said Gregory.

"Yer can go 'long." Aunt Matilda put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, and looked into the fire.