"Miss Phenie, if you 'll be so kind, just rope two cans of Minervy-at-the-Well can peaches."
Now it was Andy Dorson's turn to lose his temper. His friend's aspersions on his immediate forbears and the deficiencies of his early education, loosed against him as they were in the presence of Phenie Logan—admittedly Two Moons' reigning belle—were deliberate and unprovoked insults. No long span of friendship could brook such incharity. Moreover, Andy hated to see a man old as Timberline Todd display so publicly his appalling ignorance.
"Of course," he began in a languid drawl, "anybody whose early youth was spent herdin' sheep, when he wasn't languishin' in jail for bustin' the statues made an' appointed, couldn't accumulate much in the gen'ral line of ancient history. If this child of misfortune I 'm specifyin' had had even a Chinaman's chance at a education he 'd 'a' known this here Minervy never knew about wells an' water holes, she bein' rated high in the queen stuff. Which she packed up her war bag, come Christmas holidays, an' went to propose marriage to Ole Man Solomon, knowin' him to be a right smart marryin' man."
