"We had got to whar I
was the biggest fool when I tried. Don't you ricolleck?"
"Oh, you want to git back to whar you was tryin' to pick a quarrel with
me, do you?"
"No, jest thought I'd help you out."
"It's no sich of a thing. You know you don't love me an' you jest want a
chance to tell me so."
"Did it ever hit you, Margaret, that a woman ought to put herself in a
condition to be loved? Scoldin' don't fetch out love no mo' than b'ilin'
water would fetch out blossoms."
"I don't scold, and I don't see why you always keep a hintin' that I do.
Scold! I never scolded in my life. You know you git mad every mornin' at
breakfust. Man's always mad till he gits suthin' to eat. Scold indeed.
And if I was to scold, which I don't, I'd have a cause."
"Cause! Did you ever know a woman to look fur a cause an' not find one?
Jest make a cause of the needle in the hay-stack an' the woman will find
it. And I want to tell you that the mo' causes a woman has the mo'
disagreeable she is."
"Oh, it's no sich of a thing. A woman may slave an' slave an' never go
off the place and--"
"Go off the place! Didn't you go to the barbecue over at the cross-roads
last year?"
"Last year," she repeated; "it was year befo' last.
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