We're going to have plenty of money.

Hay is mighty high.

I can get eight dollars a ton standing out there, and not put a machine into it myself.

Wheat is two dollars and twenty cents a bushel, the lowest." "Why, that's fine, that's fine!" said she.

"I'm so glad." She knew nothing in the world about hay or wheat.
The odors from the stove appealed pleasantly enough to the tired woman who sat on the box chair, in the same place she originally had taken.
"Draw up," said Sim Gage.