"Miss Jessie's been down hyar two or three times," Adela said, "to buy bluefish and tarrapin for the manor; and she was very kind to the boys. Wasn't she, Dennie?"
"That she was. She brought us jelly, one time." Dennis gently smacked his lips, in a reminiscent way.
"I reckon she hain't brought any money, though," his aunt skeptically meditated, aloud. "Any company up at the manor?"
"Why, yes," said the girl. "There's a young gen'l'man from the Nawth—a sort of English chap, I reckon; anyhow, he comes from New York. Mr. Lance; that's what they call him. I hain't seen him, but Dennis can tell you."
"Certain shore," said Dennis. "That's his name. He's got idees about buildin' up. He wants to eddicate folks all round—sort of free snack of knowledge for everybody."
"I reckon he'll be eddicating Miss Jessie to fall in love with him," Adela observed. "That's what."
"Well, I sha'n't find no fault with him if he do," Dennis returned. "Only he needn't come down hyar away with his idees and all. 'Pears like him and Sylv 'ud be chancey to take up with one another, though."
"What makes you think that?" Aunty Losh asked, with a trace of apprehension.
"'Cause Sylv don't think of nothin' now but book-larnin', and he's been hevin' talks with that ar fellow."
"Sylv'll be goin' off and leavin' us one o' these days," the old woman mused, as she put a match to the short pipe she had been filling for herself.