“My wife's sister come down to my place 's mornin'—her what broke her hand, ye know She was gwine 'ome again, but I says ' No, stop now you be here. Stop and have the day. You don't come so often as you need hurry back afore dark.' Anybody 'd think to look at her she was younger 'n my wife, 'stead o' bein' two year older. Sixty-six she is, but she could jump over a dozen o' my old gal, now.”

“Perhaps she hasn't worked so hard?”

“Always been a very 'ard-workin' woman. And reared thirteen children too. But she could jump over a dozen o' my old gal. She (i.e., the ‘old gal’) is sixty-four, though.”

“And you?”

“I be about sixty … Not so old as my wife.

She's sixty-four, and 'er sister sixty-six.”

“How is her arm?”

“Oh, her arm's purty well. But where 'twas broke across her wrist she don't git no use of't 't all. Swelled up it is. … Four months now since she bin like that. … She did stare at our 'taters. She en't set eyes on a new one yet, so I put up a great bag full for her … They en't got none at home yet—and in their good ground too.