Hat. Stop your nonsense, Bill. (Takes money from purse and hands it to him.) There! Stop at the drug store and get me a box of tooth powder. If you can’t get powder, get paste.
Bill. An’ if I can’t git paste I’ll git a bottle of mucilage.
Hel. The idea, Bill! Mucilage! People don’t use such stuff as that to clean their teeth.
Bill. If they was false it would be good to stick ’em to ther gums.
Hat. (sharply). Bill, I want you to understand that my teeth are all my own.
Bill. Of course, Daisy—I mean Peach. Whose would they be? If you’ve got false ones most likely you paid for ’em. Whose would they be? (Goes to door at C., laughing.) But all right, Peach. I’ll git ther tooth powder for yer. I won’t forgit. I’m goin’ to buy a set of clappers with that quarter you give me afore. Then, with a new mouth-organ an’ ther clappers, there’ll be a regular band of music around High Up Farm. [Exit.
Hel. Mother, that boy is getting to be a regular nuisance. The idea of him speaking that way to a stranger!
Hat. Oh! I don’t mind him, Miss Rodney. Bill isn’t exactly all right. I noticed that when he met me at the depot. He means no offense, I am sure. His comical actions and remarks help take away the dullness. Bill is all right.
Susan. Well, we’ve had him ever since he was about ten years old, an’ he’s always been pretty faithful. I s’pose he can’t help it if he’s a little loose in his upper story. Most likely he was born that way.