'lo, pete. hooor yer friends?
you've grown chatty.
i expect you'll want them chains knocked off.
they foreclosed on cousin vester. he hanged himself a year come may.
the anthrax took most of his cows. the rest don't milk, and he lost a boy to mumps.
couldn't say. mrs. hogwallop up and
possibly. good riddance, far as i'm concerned.
i do miss her cookin' though.
think so?
i slaughtered this horse last tuesday; 'm afraid she's startin' to turn.
got a bunch in yon byurra. mrs. hogwallop's, matter of fact. hepyaseff; i won't be needin' 'em.