"Ah'm pack dem wit' dose proveesion," laughed Dave. "Ah'm poot dose two hon shore behin' som' point, w'ile all dose peop' ees too busy for look at Dave. Ma sistaire ees come for pick som' berry. Hey, you know dose kid? W'y you no talk, Rosa Marie? Here ees som' frien' for you."
Then Dave spoke rapidly in some strange tongue to his sister, concluding in his broken English, as he turned to go:
"Now Ah'm go for help dose ol' Aunt hon top dose boat. You stay here."
Nevertheless, conscientious Marjory started to follow him; but Rosa Marie's mother, stepping quickly into the narrow pathway, gently but unmistakably detained her.
"You talk som' leetle t'ing to Rosa Marie—she ees remembaire you, ees eet not, Rosa? See, how he ees grow som' hon herself, dose so fat Rosa."
So Marjory, seeing no way of immediate escape with the attractive young Indian woman firmly blocking the pathway, renewed her acquaintance with Rosa Marie, who apparently was as stolid and as unemotional as ever.
"Hees fadaire lak' dat," explained Mahjigeezigoqua. "He t'ink hon hees inside honly. No talk, no mak' som' smile hon her face, dose man."
If Rosa Marie did any thinking, it is certain that the process went on "inside only," for if ever there was a wooden little Indian it was Rosa Marie. But by dint of hard work, Marjory finally extracted a smile. Then Rosa Marie, groping under her brief skirts, produced the very dirtiest and most disreputable doll that Marjory had ever beheld.
"Ma-bel," said Rosa Marie. "Ma-bel."