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Uncle Salters went on with a rasping chuckie: "Sim'on Peter Ca'houn he said, an' he was jest right, abaout Lorin', 'Ha'af on the taown, he said, 'an' t'other ha'af blame fool; an' they told me she's married a 'ich man. Sim'on Peter Ca'houn he hedn't no roof to his mouth, an' talked that way." "He didn't talk any Pennsylvania Dutch," Tom Platt replied.
"Yever hear what Sim'on Peter Ca'houn said when they whacked up a match 'twix' his sister Hitty an' Lorin' Jerauld, an' the boys put up that joke on him daown to Georges?" drawled Uncle Salters, who was dripping peaceably under the lee of the starboard dory-nest. Tom Platt puffed at his pipe in scornful silence: he was a Cape Cod man, and had not known that tale more than twenty years.
"Did ye ever think how sweet 'twould be to sail wid a full crew o' Salterses?" said Long Jack. "Ha'af in the furrer an' other ha'af in the muck-heap, as Ca'houn did not say, an' makes out he's a fisherman!" A little laugh went round at Salters's expense.
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