"Am I common?"
"For the Lord's sake, Benjy, stop yo' pesterin'. What on earth has gone an' set that idee workin' inside yo' head?"
"Is pa common?"
She meditated an instant. "Wall, he wa'nt born a Savage, but I'd never have called him common—exactly," she answered.
"Then perhaps you are?"
"You talk like a fool! Haven't I told you that I wa'nt?" she snapped.
"Then if you ain't an' pa ain't exactly, how can I be?" I concluded with triumph.
"Whoever said you were? Show me the person."
"It wa'nt a person. It was a little girl."
"A little girl? You mean the half-drowned brat I wrapped up in yo' grandma's old blanket shawl I set the muffin dough under? To think of my sendin' yo' po' tired pa splashin' out with 'em into the rain. So she called you common?"