You ain't jealous o' that weak little
woman, air you?"
Slowly rocking, and reflecting for a few moments, she replied: "Jasper,
it's the weak little women that air so strong with the men."
"Yes," he declared, "and it's the weak little women that have sons that
air so ready to march to the tap of the drum. But I give you and our
daughter all the love thar is in this old heart o' mine, and that ought
to be enough."
"But you don't appear to want to talk to me," she whimpered.
"Talkin' to you now, ain't I?"
"Yes," she admitted, "sich talk as it is."
"Well, what do you want me to do? Stand like that young feller Elliott
and read stuff writ in short lines?"
Margaret flounced out of the chair. "Oh, I never seed a man that could
be as big a fool when he tried. I do know that--" Here she was
interrupted by the unheralded entrance of Mose Blake, the stuttering boy
with the tea-cup. He nodded at Starbuck and began to stutter. "Mother
sent me atter--atter a c--c--c--cup o' v--v--v--"
"How's all the folks, Mose?" Margaret broke in.
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