"I am."
She supped up bird-like from the tip of her spoon, smacking for flavor.
"I made you an asafetida-bag, Edwin, it's in your drawer. Don't you leave this house to-morrow without it on."
"Aw-w-w-w-w!"
"It don't smell."
"Where's my stamp-book?"
"On your table, where it belongs."
"Gee whiz! if you got my Argentine stamps mixed!"
"Get washed."
"Where's my batteries?"