"Well," said Rose, abstractedly.
"What on airth made you carry on so like sixty about my washing you? Don't you like me?"
"Y—e—s," replied Rose, blushing deeply.
"Wall, then, what was the matter with you? any scars on your body, or any thing?"
"No," said Rose.
"What did ail you, then? for I'm curious to know; why didn't you want me to wash you?"
"It made me feel ashamed," said Rose; "nobody ever washed me but mamma; I didn't mind my mamma."
"Wall, I'm beat if I can understand that," said Timmins, looking meditatively down upon the carpet; "and one of your own sect, as they call it, too. It seems ridikilis; but let me tell you, you'd better make no fuss here; none of the other childern does."
"Other children?" asked Rose, "are there more children here? I did not hear any noise or playing."
"No, I reckon you didn't," said Timmins, laughing. ("I wish to the land Mrs. Markham had heard you say that;") and Timmins laughed again, as if it was too good a joke to be thrown away on one listener.