"'This yere Polly Hawks ain't none new to me. I never co'ts her; but
I meets her frequent at barn raisin's an' quiltin's, which allers
winds up in a dance; an' in them games an' merriments, sech as
"bowin' to the wittiest, kneelin' to the prettiest, an' kissin' the
one you loves the best," I more than once regyards Polly as an
alloorin' form of hooman hollyhock, an' selects her. But thar's no
flush of burnin' love; nothin' nore than them amiable formalities
which befits the o'casion.
"'While this yere Polly is nursin' me, however, she takes on a
different attitoode a whole lot. It looks like I begins to need her
permanent, an' every time I sets my eyes on her I feels as soft as
b'ar's grease. It's shorely love; that Polly Hawks is as sweet an'
luscious as a roast apple.'
"'Is she for troo so lovely?' asks Faro Nell, who's been hangin'
onto Enright's words.
"'Frankly, Nellie,' says Enright, sort o' pinchin' down his bluff;
'now that I'm ca'mer an' my blood is cool, this yere Polly don't
seem so plumb prismatic. Still, I must say, she's plenty radiant.'
"'Does you-all,' says Dan Boggs, 'put this yere Polly in nom'nation
to be your wife while you're quiled up sick? '
"'No, I defers them offers to moments when I'm more robust,' says
Enright.
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