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The other did not notice the oddness of his accent as she ended meditatively: "You can never get me to believe that it don't make old Yankees feel low in their minds to go back to their old homes and find just a few white-headed rheumatickers potterin' around, an' the grass growing over everything as though it was a molderin' graveyard that nobody iver walked in, and sorra sign of life anyway you look up and down the street."
Once label a man with hard drinkin', and it's hard to get justice for him. There never was a man had more the makin' of a pillar than mine, dead now these sixteen years and molderin' in his grave for justice." "Yes, Mrs. Scogin." "You can lean back against that bow." "Thanks." "So Burkhardt's been made deacon." "Three years already you was at the church." "A deacon.
"Quick close that door, ma!" "Come to see a body, Hanna, when she ain't here. She won't stay at home, like a God-fearin' woman ought to." "Light the gas-heater up there, if you expect me to come to bed. I'm used to steam-heated flats, not barns." "She's a sassy girl, Hanna. Your John a deacon and hers lies molderin' in his grave, a sui " Mrs.
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