But dem sent'ments don't apply ter all de udder women h'yar, 'tic'larly ter dem dar young uns wot ain't married yit.

As STOWE BYRON says: "Oh, days of my childhood's hours, I'm a gazin' on ye yit.

Thar's a handful of russets in the orchard yit, that's calc'latin' ter spend Christmas up close ter heaven; butSay, Blossy," he added more loudly, since she did not raise her head, "yew seen anythin' o' that air picker?" Blossy glanced up from her ragged-edged crackly billet-doux with a start, and dropped the envelop to the floor.