"Yer knows," said Dolf, prolonging the situation as much as possible, in the hope that some bright thought would strike him by which the conversation might be led round to the subject uppermost in his worldly mind; "yer knows very well."
"Why, yer's making me out jis' a witch."
"No, Miss Clorindy, no; don't say dem keerless tings—don't! I ain't a makin' you nothin', only de most charmin' and de most cruel of yer sect."
If Clo did not blush it was only because nature had deprived her of the dangerous privilege, but she fell into a state of sweet confusion that was beautiful to behold.
"Dar ye go agin," said she; "now quit a callin' me witches and sich, or else say why?"
"Didn't I see you dis berry even'?" said Dolf.
"In course ye did; we was to Mrs. Hopkins's when de meeting was ober."
"And wasn't Elder Spotts dar, too?"
"In course he was; yer knows it well enough."
"I knows it too well," said Dolf. "Dar's whar de coquettations comes in; dat's jis' de subjec' I'm 'proachin' yer wid."