human
Yassir, Sef, if you'd a-got yere at a inch and a quarter apast! Now Sam's got her. Down in the cellar a-licking molasses together! Doggone if Sam don't git eferysing--except his due bills. He don't want to be no anchel tell he dies. He's got fun enough yere--but Seffy--you're like the flow of molasses in January--at courting.