Jim listened silently, but it wouldn't have flattered her to know that it was her ready flow of language and the rather long words she used which mainly impressed him. To his practical mind it was simply impossible for any right-minded girl to forsake those who had cared for her all her life, in order to gratify the whim of an old lady whom she had known but a short time. Nor did it enter the thoughts of either of these young folks that the material advantages offered to Dorothy would be very great. It was only a question of happiness; the happiness of the Chesters or that of Mrs. Cecil.
As they left Deerhurst behind them and still Jim had answered nothing except that provoking "Don't see why," Dorothy lost her patience.
"Jim Barlow, have you lost your tongue? I think—I think you're horribly unsympathetic!" she cried, flashing a glance upon him that was meant for anger, yet ended in surprise at his actually smiling countenance. "I don't see anything funny in this business, if you do! What are you laughing at?"
Now he looked at her, his face radiant with the fun of his own thoughts, and replied:
"Lots o' things. Fust off, Dorothy, will you correct me every time I use bad language?"
"Bad—language! Swearing, you mean? Why, Jim, I never heard you, not once. Huh! If I did I reckon I would correct you, so quick 'twould make you dizzy!"
"Pshaw! I don't mean that, silly thing! I mean—Dorothy, I want to talk like other folks: like Mis' Calvert——"
"Then begin to call her 'Mrs.'"
"Mrs. Calvert," answered Jim, obediently. "To you and her and Mr. Chester, talkin'——"
"Talking, Jim. Don't clip the g's off your words!"