“This last attitoode of Jennie towards Dave is one of abandonment an’ onthinkin’ indifference that a-way.  It begins hard on the fetlocks of that interestin’ event, thrillin’ to every proud Wolfville heart, the birth of Dave’s only infant son, Enright Peets Tutt.  Which I never does cross up with no one who deems more of her progeny than Jennie does of the yoothful Enright Peets.  A cow’s solicitoode concernin’ her calf is chill regyard compared tharwith.  Jennie hangs over Enright Peets like some dew-jewelled hollyhock over a gyarden fence; you’d think he’s a roast apple; an’ I don’t reckon now, followin’ that child’s advent, she ever sees another thing in Arizona but jest Enright Peets.  He’s the whole check-rack—­the one bet that wins on the layout of the possible—­an’ Jennie proceeds to conduct herse’f accordin’.  It’s a good thing mebby for Enright Peets; I won’t set camped yere an’ say it ain’t; but it’s mighty hard on Dave.

“Jennie not only neglects Dave, she turns herse’f loose frequent an’ assails him.  If he shows up in his wigwam walkin’ some emphatic, Jennie’ll be down on him like a fallin’ star an’ accoose him of wakin’ Enright Peets.

“‘An’ if you-all wakes him,’ says Jennie to Dave, sort o’ domineerin’ at him with her forefinger, ‘he’ll be sick; an’ if he gets sick, he’ll die; an’ if he dies, you’ll be a murderer—­the heartless deestroyer of your own he’pless offspring,—­which awful deed I sometimes thinks you’re p’intin’ out to pull off.’  An’ then Jennie would put her apron over her head an’ shed tears a heap; while Dave—­all harrowed up an’ onstrung—­would come stampedin’ down to the Red Light an’ get consolation from Black Jack by the quart.

“That’s the idee, son; it’s impossible to go into painful details, ’cause I ain’t in Dave’s or Jennie’s confidence enough to round ’em up; but you onderstands what I means.  Jennie’s forever hectorin’ an’ pesterin’ Dave about Enright Peets; an’ beyond that she don’t pay no more heed, an’ don’t have him no more on her mind, than if he’s one of these yere little jimcrow ground-owls you-all sees inhabitin’ about dissoloote an’ permiscus with prairie-dogs.  What’s the result?  Dave’s sperits begins to sink; he takes to droopin’ about listless an’ onregyardful; an’ he’s that low an’ onhappy his nosepaint don’t bring him no more of comfort than if he’s a graven image.  Why, it’s the saddest thing I ever sees in Wolfville!

“We-all observes how Dave’s dwindlin’ an’ pinin’ an’ most of us has a foggy onderstandin’ of the trooth.  But what can we do?  If thar’s ever a aggregation of sports who’s powerless, utter, to come to the rescoo of a comrade in a hole, it’s Enright an’ Moore an’ Boggs an’ Texas Thompson an’ Cherokee an’ me, doorin’ them days when that neglect of Tucson Jennie’s is makin’ pore Dave’s burdens more’n he can b’ar.  Shore, we consults; but that don’t come to nothin’ ontil the o’casion when Doc Peets takes the tangle in ser’ous hand.