As the three of them approached the barn, the most unholy joining of curse-words was to be heard issuing forth from that cathedral of horse husbandry. Anæsthesia had heard her late Father swear, of course, but had often been unable to locate the precise meaning of many of the words he used, even in the family's enormous, morocco-bound 1864 Unabridged edition of Mr. Noah Webster's dictionary.
The said tome went straight from Fuchia to Fuel, straight from Cunning to Cup and right from Shirty to Shiver with no elucidating stops in between to explain the words he used. Even the words she could find, seemed to have a number of meanings different to the way Papa had used them. She had never heard her mother swear at all, until the reading of her Father's will, but that was another matter entirely.
"Dad-blasted! Son of a _______ (noun: female dog)"
Anæsthesia's new role as a Teacher (with a capital T) must have been getting to her, because she selflessly allowed her own ears to be defiled by the filthy swear words and used her hands to cover Josh's protuberant lugs.
"Oh, do not listen, dear child, I am afraid that your Papa has so demeaned himself as to have uttered an oath!" she cried, melodramatically.