GIBSON: Sit down, Carter. Sit down! [_They sit._] Well, is everything
fine?

CARTER [_heartily_]: Yes, sir! It is, Mr. Gibson! Indeed it is!
[_Glances with some little pride at his clothes._] I couldn't of
expected no finer. Fact is, I never could of asked for anything like
this, even if I'd been a praying man.

GIBSON: Well, I'm glad to hear it, Carter!

CARTER: I knowed you would be, Mr. Gibson. It's all just wonderful the
way things are working out!

GIBSON: Everything is working out just right, is it?

CARTER: Oh, I don't say everything! They's bound to be some little mites
here and there. You know that yourself.

GIBSON [_grimly_]: Yes, I do! What are _your_ little mites, Carter?

CARTER: Well, what mostly gits my goat is this here Simpson's wife, Mrs.
Simpson.

GIBSON: What bothers you about Simpson's wife?

CARTER: Well, what I says, woman's place is the home, and this here Mrs.
Simpson--I--I never could stand no loud, gabby woman!

GIBSON: You're not neighbours, are you?