"Oh, he's too far off," returned Clo, with a prolonged chuckle at her own wit; "too high up for much use."
"Bery good," said Dolf, "bery good indeed! Yer's in fine spirits to-day, Miss Clorindy."
Here Dolf sighed dolefully.
He certainly was in earnest this time—Clo felt assured of that. She forgot the half-washed vegetables, the unseasoned soup, and tried to pose herself with becoming dignity.
"I don't see why," she said, in sweet confusion. "But any how yer didn't prove nothin' 'bout my bein' coquettious."
"Dar it is!" cried Dolf. "It all goes togeder."
"Oh, laws," cried Clo, "as ef dat ar would set you a sighin'; I knows a heap better'n dat, Mister Dolf."
"Yer don't do me justice, Clorindy," said Dolf, seriously, putting on an injured look; "yer neber has done me justice."
"Why, what have I done now?" demanded Clo, beginning to play with her apron string.
"Clo! I say, ole Clo!"