Talk! my jiminy crimps, how that woman could talk! I couldn't get away; I tried to, but, my soul, she wouldn't let me.

And, if 'twas a warm night, she'd more'n likely have a pitcher of lemonade or some sort of cold wash alongside, and I must stop and taste it.

By time, I can taste it yet! "Well, there wa'n't no harm in her at all; she was just a fool that had to talk to somebody, males preferred.

But my stayin' out nights wasn't helpin' the joyfulness of things to home, and one evenin'-- one evenin'.

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