“How d’ye know I ain’t?”
Mr. Daisy pondered over this. “I don’t,” he finally confessed. “But lissen here, Wing-o: I got somethin’ to tell you.”
“Never saw you when you didn’t have somethin’ to tell somebody.”
“Ha-ha! You sure got on yer kid gloves to-night, sw-sweetheart.”
“I don’t need ’em to handle the likes o’ you. Peddle that ‘sw-sweetheart’ stuff where its welcome.”
“Aw, say now! I was afraid you wasn’t gonta think o’ that. Lissen, deary—honest I got somethin’ to tell you.”
“I can’t believe it!”
“Somethin’ big, too. It’ll make yer eyes stick out.”
“It would if I was to swallow it, I guess. But you never saw me have to push ’em in with a pick handle after listenin’ to you, did you?”
“Ain’t you the cuttin’ kid, though! But honest, pettie—this here’s great. Honest!”