B. M. Bower

“ Dunk might, in time, have forgiven the crippled ankle, and the consequent appropriation of his room, but never would he forgive the merciless detail of that sketch.
“I’ll carry easel and all into the parlor, and leave the door open so you can hear what they all say,” said the Little Doctor, cheerfully. “I wish Cecil could be here to-day. I always miss Cecil when there’s anything especial going on in the way of fun.”
“Yes?” answered Chip, and made himself another cigarette. ”

“ I don’t care if Dell had a hull apurn full uh kodak pictures that Chip took—it’s a rattlin’ good piece uh work, all the same.”
“I ain’t sayin’ anything agin’ the pitcher,” retorted Slim. “I was jest wonderin’ how she happened t’ git that cow down s’ fine, brand ’n all, without some kind uh pattern t’ go by. S’ fur ’s the pitcher goes, it’s about as good ’s kin be did with paint, I guess. I ain’t ever seen anything in the pitcher line that looked any natcherler.”
“Well, I do think it’s just splendid!” gurgled the Countess. ”

“ It’s every bit as good ’s the one Mary got with a year’s subscription t’ the Household Treasure fer fifty cents. That one’s got some hounds chasin’ a deer and a man hidin’ in the bushes, sost yuh kin jest see his head. It’s an awful purty pitcher, but this one’s jest as good. I do b’lieve it’s a little bit better, if anything. Mary’s has got some awful nice, green grass, an’ the sky’s an awful purty blue—jest about the color uh my blue silk waist. But yuh can’t expect t’ have grass an’ sky like that in the winter, an’ this is more of a winter pitcher. ”