"Yes, 'spec' it is," she snarled back, "long as you want it." And she gathered her skirts carefully, edged into the reduced space of her former seat, laid the cup of water on the sill of the window, and sat down as carefully as a hen adjusting herself to a nest, and, I thought, with precisely the same movement.
A moment more and she leaned over the seat-back and said to the bewhiskered man:
"Hand me that napkin and stuff, will ye?"
The man moved his arm, picked up his newspaper, looked under it, and said:
"It ain't here."
"Well, I guess it is. I sot it there not more'n two minutes ago!"
The man settled himself in his seat and began to read.
"Look 'round there, will ye? Maybe it dropped on the floor."
"It ain't on the floor. Guess I know a napkin when I see it." This came with some degree of positiveness.
"Well, it ain't here. I left it right where you're a-sittin' when I went and got this water. You ain't eat it, hev ye?" She was still in her seat, her head twisted about, her face expressing every thought that crossed her mind.