Don't thank me, grinnin like a weasel in a hen house as you are. Always up to somethin, Mister James, you're no good to me.

[turns around to put the bottle up and talks with his back turned]

Sure enough the Turners run with Martin. The four of them, crooked as a dog's hind legs, never done a good deed since they rolled into town. O'course they never got the chance to stay long, seein as they're outsiders an all. Shipped off to Summerhill with the rest o' them, I tell you outsiders bring nothin' but trouble.

[looks over shoulder at nick pointedly, though he still seems good natured there's clearly some kind of tense prejudice underneath it]