"Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?"

     "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married."

     "Married!"

     "That's it."

     "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind."

     "Wait--you'll see."

     "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well."

     "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight."

     "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?"

     "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl."

     "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?"