ar you see a home, you may know that somebody has fit fur it.
Every privilege in this here life has cost blood. If a man wants to be
treated as a lamb, he must prove himself a tiger. He must conquer befo'
he's allowed to set down an' love. I don't want to kill that feller,
but--"

Laz Spencer appeared at the door. "Come in, Laz."

He came in and took off his slouch hat, standing there as if he had
something on his mind. Suddenly he exclaimed as if discharging a great
diplomatic mission: "Mornin', mornin'."

Margaret bade him good morning, and then asked concerning the health of
the "folks."

He sat down and twisted his hat round and round. "The folks air jest
tolerable, ma'm. How's all with you?"

"Tolerable," Margaret answered.

"Yo' brother Bill a gittin' better?" Jasper inquired.

Round and round Laz twisted his hat. "Pearter than he war yistidy, but
not as peart as he war the day befo'."

"Yo' mother still a eatin' of spoon vidults, Laz?"

"No, doc' he 'lows she kin eat knife an' fork stuff now."

"Any news over yo' way?"

"Nuthin' wuth dividin'. Doc' he sewed Patterson up an' 'lows he may git
well."

"Why, what's the matter with Patterson?"

"Sam Perdue cut him with a knife."

"Fur pity's sake," Margaret exclaimed.

"I ain't hearn about it," said Jasper.

"Yes, they had a right sharp time," Laz drawled. "Andy, he died."

"What Andy?"

"Andy Horn."

"Did you ever?" Margaret declared.

"What ailed him?" Jasper asked, showing increased interest.

"Got cotched in a saw mill. Ma'm," he added, looking at Margaret without
turning his head, "I reckon you hearn about old Aunt Sis Garrett?"

"Not a word."

"Fell down day befo' yistidy an' broke her hip."

"Why," said Margaret, "you didn't tell us yistidy at meetin'."

"Wall, I had suthin' else on my mind at the time. When things git to
pushin' around in my mind, I jest let one thing crowd out another."

"Fell down and broke her hip," Margaret mused aloud.

"Yes'm. Runnin' fitten to kill herse'f at the time. Can't run so mighty
brisk, you know, bein' old an' sorter rheumatic, but she done the best
she could. I seed a old feller a runnin' once, an' I says--"

"But here," Jasper broke in, "ain't she old enough to know better'n to
run fitten to kill herse'f?"

"Yes, suh, but she had to run on this here occasion. She was a gittin'
outen the way."

"Outen the way of what?"

"The crazy man that was atter her with a knife. Reckon you ricollec