human
Why, bless you, Mrs. ----, how cold 'tis! said Mrs. Bird.
gpt
My dear husband couldn't hardly think of lettin' me go out. Bird is _so_ particular, and allers so scared for fear'd sunthin' will happen to me. 'Wife,' said Bird to me one day--'wife,' sez he, 'you musn't go out with them are thin shoes on--'t'il be the death on you,' sez he. 'O, shaw!' sez I. 'Bird, you're allers bor'ring trouble.' 'No, I ain't, nother,' sez he. 'Byme-by, you'll get a mortal sickness in your lungs, and it'll run you inter the inflammation, and then you're gone.' But I allers laughs at Bird when he talks so. Why, of all things, continued Mrs. Bird, looking round, if here ain't Mrs. Brown.
human
Are you well, Aunt Sonora, to-day?
gpt
Pretty sorter,
human
Hain't had the rheumatiz, nor shakin' ager, nor any of that buzzing in your head?
gpt
None to speak on.
human
How is your old man, Mrs. Brown?
gpt
Well, he's gruntin' some--but so's to be about.
human
Did he catch that feller who ow'd him and run'd away?
gpt
Not's I ever heerd on,
human
Why, what a nice caliker you're got on, Mrs. Brown; was it one-and-three or one-and-six?
gpt
I b'lieve it was somewher's _along_ there,
human
It's jest like Charity Beadle's, only Charity had hers made up with the figur' runnin' down.