"I guess you're drunk, all right.

If you're too drunk to spread butter, let me do it." "What makes you think I'm drunk ?" Ford questioned, lowering his voice because of the person he suspected was in the kitchen.
"Mamma and Jo was quarreling about it; that's why.

And my own mamma cried, and shut the door, and wouldn't let me go in.

And Jo pretty near cried too, all right.

I guess she did, only not when any one was looking.