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Wal, I tell you his money an' his stock an' his land won't help him a cent's worth ef he don't give you to me. I ken make him lick my boots if I so choose. See? Ther' wa'n't another word spoke. An' I heerd 'em move clear. Then I dropped, an' pushin' my head down through the hay-hole, I see that Jake's goin' out by hisself. Miss Dianny had gone out clear ahead, an' wus talkin' to Jacob."
An' sez she, wi' mock 'nuff to make a man feel as mean as rank sow-belly, 'Father will never let me marry, and you know it. An' Jake stands quiet a minnit. Then I guess his voice jest rasped right up to me through that hay-hole. 'I'm goin' to make him, sez he, vicious-like. 'A tidy ranch, this, eh?
When she's gettin' peekit like trying to keep the house goin' and at the same time prevent her seven little ones from steppin' into the cistern or fallin' down the hay-hole, you can make up another pretty pickter with one of the nine hundred million other weemen on this globe as the central figger!"
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