“Well, anyways,” said Mrs. Magraw, “we gits half a dozen cabinets fer lettin’ ’em take it.”
“’Twas real generous,” agreed Reddy. “But I wish they was of the baby. I niver thought that I’d iver ag’in face a cammery. The last picter I had took, darlint, was whin I was courtin’ ye.”
“Yes, an’ I’ve got it yet, as ye know,” said Mrs. Magraw, “an’ a love of a picter it is.”
“All that I raymimber about it is that me pants was very tight an’ me shoes was killin’ me,” said Reddy, with a smile of reminiscence. “However, I was ready an’ willin’ to suffer any torture—even to cuttin’ off me toes if ye thought me feet too big.”
“As if I iver looked at yer feet! It was in your honest blue eyes that I looked, Reddy Magraw, an’ nowheres else.”
“Well, I reckon we didn’t either of us make no mistake, darlint,” said Reddy comfortably. “We ain’t niver been bothered by a bank account, ’tis true; but nayther have we starved or gone naked.”
Mrs. Magraw patted him on the shoulder as a token of her approval of the sentiment.
“Let’s see the other picters,” she said. “There’s Jack Welsh an’ Stanley—trust him t’ have his picter ready.”
“Yes,” chuckled Reddy, “an’ anybody could recognize it a mile off by the nose.”
“But where’s Allan?”