"Deacon Pettybone's north mowin' is turned into a baseball grounds, and
everybody in town is buyin' buntin' to wrap their harnesses, and
Kittleman's fetched in more 'n five bushels of peanuts, and every young
un in taown'll be sick with the stummick ache."

"Feelin' extry cheerful this mornin', hain't ye? Kind of more
hopeful-like than I call to mind seein' you fer some time."

"Never knowed no big celebration to come off like it was planned, or
'thout somebody gittin' a leg busted, or the big speaker fergittin' what
day it was, or suthin'. Seems like the hull weight of this here falls
right on to me."

"Responsibility," said Scattergood, with a twinkle in his eye, "is a
turrible thing to bear up under. But nothin' hain't happened yit, and
folks is dependin' on you, Pliny, to see 't nothin' mars the party."

"It'll rain on to the _pe_-rade, and the ball game'll bust up in a
fight, and pickpockets'll most likely git wind of sich a big gatherin'
and come swarmin' in.... Scattergood," he lowered his voice
impressively, "it's rumored Mavin Newton's a-comin' back for this here
Old Home Week."

"Um!... Mavin Newton.... Um!... Who up and la'nched that rumor?"

"Everybody's a-talkin' it up. Folks says he's sure to come, and then
what in tunket'll we do? The sheriff's goin' to be busy handlin' the
crowds and the traffic and sich, and he won't have no time fer extry
miscreants, seems as though.... Folks is a-comin' from as fur 's Denver,