Don't you be fooled into allowin' that Cynthia wrote that po'try.

She didn't--no more'n Eunice nor me.

Mar kinder let ye think it, 'cos she don't want folks to think SHE did it.
But mar wrote that po'try herself; wrote it out o' them thar woods--all by herself.

Thar's a heap more po'try thar, you bet, and jist as good.
And she's the one that kin write it--you hear me?
That's my mar, every time! You buy that thar wood, and get mar to run it for po'try, and you'll make your pile, sure! I ain't lyin'.

You'd better look spry: thar's another feller snoopin' 'round yere--only he barked up the wrong tree, and thought it was Cynthia, jist as you did." "Another feller ?" repeated the astonished Bowers.
"Yes; a rig'lar sport.