A hungry and desperate man approached a reporter on the street one night, asking for directions to a family of "scrubs." The man explained that he was a representative from Soapstone County and had brought his family with him to town. They had been homeless and without food for over a week. He had been searching for a boarding house but could not afford to stay at a hotel.
The man recounted his experiences visiting various boarding houses, all of which were run by widows of prominent Southern men. These women charged exorbitant prices for their accommodations, justifying the costs by citing their high social status and connections. The man expressed his frustration with the situation, stating that he would prefer a simple meal of pork and beans over the company of these aristocratic women.
I admire people of fine descent, but my stomach yearns for pork and beans instead of culture.
The reporter sympathized with the man's plight, admitting that the town was indeed filled with high-toned boarding houses run by ladies of old Southern families. The desperate man then expressed his desire to find a boarding house run by a low-class, unrefined family who had never heard of finger bowls or Ward McAllister, but who could provide a hot meal at a reasonable price.
I want a scrubby, ornery, low-down, snuff-dipping, back-woodsy, piebald gang, who never heard of finger bowls or Ward McAllister.
The reporter sadly shook his head, unsure if such a place existed in the town.
I greatly fear that you have run against a high-toned town.
The two men then decided to drown their sorrows in beer at a nearby saloon.