Osh Popham: Mariah, for once in your life, pray for a silver linin'.

Osh Popham: Mariah, why don't you get back to them strawberry preserves?
Mariah Popham: Mr. Popham, just answer yes or no, have you written Mr. Hamilton advisin' him that you took it upon yourself to rent his yellow house?
Osh Popham: I told you, I have written him.
Mariah Popham: Has he written you?
Osh Popham: No, but he's a busy man. No news is good news. Besides, he's off in them foreign parts. Heathens mighta had him.
Mariah Popham: And you're lettin' them Careys tear his house apart! Redoin', plantin', young'uns runnin' all over the place! Sellin' 'em wallpaper for less than it costs you!
Osh Popham: That lot never did move.
Mariah Popham: That family's bewitched you, and I know why. You wore out the people in this town with your stories, and now you got new ears to listen to you! But you'll be bewitchin' when Mr. Hamilton lands in Beulah and wants his house back. I'm warnin' you, Mr. Popham, if you don't get a letter from Mr. Hamilton soon, I'm takin' matters into my own hands!
Osh Popham: Mariah, your pot's boilin' over.

Osh Popham: Mr. Hamilton wants a favor in return.
Margaret Carey: A favor? From us?
Osh Popham: Yes, he wants you to find a suitable place for his dear mother's picture.
Nancy Carey: Of course! Portrait of a lady! Where is it, Osh?
Osh Popham: Well, he hid it. He hid it away someplace safe. He wrote it down real clear, but it's just gone right out of my head.
Nancy Carey: Well, if you'll bring the letter, we'll follow the instructions to the last detail. She'll have a place of honor!
Osh Popham: Well, that's the idea. He wrote something about a simple little vase with flowers on her birthday.
Nancy Carey: When is it?
Osh Popham: Well, it seemed to me it was around the fall of the year. On Halloween.
Margaret Carey: Halloween!
Osh Popham: People are born on Halloween.

Osh Popham: That's my daughter, Lallie Joy. She'd be more like me, only her ma won't let her.
Peter Carey: [climbing a tree] Look at me, Mother, look at me! Whee!
Osh Popham: That must be the rickety baby.
Nancy Carey: Oh, Mr. Popham, about that letter. I wrote it, and - oh, I don't know how to begin.
Osh Popham: Well, Nancy, the way I figure it is this world's the only one we got till we move on to the next one, and there ain't nothin' wrong with tellin' somethin' that's a might off from the truth to make it more interestin'.

Osh Popham: Tom Hamilton! Why I didn't know you for a minute! I didn't expect you'd be comin' back. Give me quite a shock.
Tom Hamilton: I just drove by the yellow house. There are some people out there.
Osh Popham: Yes, they're lovely folks named the Careys. They've been living there.
Tom Hamilton: How long they been living there?
Osh Popham: Oh, uh, not long. Wonderful folks, the Careys. You'll love them. They put in a new chain pump for that old wooden one.
Tom Hamilton: Who gave them permission to live there?
Osh Popham: Well, uh, you did.
Tom Hamilton: I did? Oh no, I never even heard of them! Why didn't you write?
Osh Popham: Well, I did. I wrote you every week and kept you abreast of everything that was happening.
Tom Hamilton: Well, I didn't get any letters.
Osh Popham: Well, you see, I never mailed them. I didn't know how you'd take the situation. You see, here were these folks who needed a house, and they fell plum in love with yours, and I let 'em have it. Wrote you all about it. Put 'em up here, where Mariah wasn't likely to be lookin'. Here are the letters, the ones I wrote and the ones Nancy Carey wrote. Hers are on top. I wrote you because Mariah was a-naggin' me. Nancy Carey wrote hers out of a grateful young heart. I hope you'll read hers before you make up your mind what to do.

Margaret Carey: It's Julia. She's coming to live with us.
Gilly Carey: Oh, no!
Nancy Carey: Oh, please! Not Julia!
Margaret Carey: I want you two out of those dying gladiator attitudes! Julia is your cousin and a Carey and I don't want you to forget that, ever. Try to remember that Julia's story is rather a sad one. She never even knew her mother! And after her dear father died, the Fergusons very kindly took her in and raised her.
Nancy Carey: Kindly took her in? George Ferguson had a guilty conscience. He knew those stocks he sold Julia's father were as worthless as ours.

Margaret Carey: Julia, dear!
Julia Carey: Aunt Margaret!
Margaret Carey: Welcome to the yellow house! How was your trip?
Julia Carey: How, it was dreadful! No parlor car on the train, and this wilderness! When I think of last summer, of the glorious times Gladys Ferguson and I had! But I must remember the last thing dear Mrs. Ferguson said to me, "Don't let poverty drag you down, Julia. Keep high thoughts and try not to let them get soiled by the grime of daily living."
Nancy Carey: Oh, lovely! Especially the part about the grime of daily living.

Margaret Carey: Your father loved you and wanted the best for you. It was his dream to live in the country someday. So maybe, maybe he'd be happy to know that we were all together in the yellow house in Beulah.

Digby Popham: I remember the night before I left Beulah, I was talking to Pa about seein' the city and the gals and all, and he said: "Amid pleasures and palaces, wherever you may roam, be it ever so humble there's no place like home."
Gilly Carey: He sang it?
Digby Popham: No, he said it. He made it right up! You know, if he ever wanted to I think Pa could've made a great poet.

Digby Popham: Pa, do you realize the furthest I've ever been from Beulah is Four Corners and I was too young to even remember?
Osh Popham: Whatcha gettin' at, son?
Digby Popham: Pa, you realize I ain't never seen nothin' or done nothin'? You yourself said a fella never gets anywhere just standin' in one place.
Osh Popham: How much am I payin' you, Digby?
Digby Popham: Three dollars a week. But a fella can make that much in one day in the city! Ain'tcha gonna stop me, Pa?
Osh Popham: Might as well get it out of your system. It seems to be comin' 'bout the right time, too. That boy Gilly seems like he oughta be able to handle your job.
Lallie Joy Popham: That Gilly boy, he's awful nice, Pa.
Osh Popham: He's all right, Lallie Joy. I have a feeling the money might come in handy for the Careys, too. Wonderful folks, even if they ain't got the rickets.