"Oh, don't go for to go on that tack now!" he exclaimed. "I've hearn enough on it a'ready. I mean squar' talk now, and I ain't goin' to be fooled, neither."
"Answer my question, then," said the girl, peremptorily. "That's no more than fair."
"Why, there ain't no trouble," Dennis assured her, becoming amiable again. "I reckon we can make out to live together as well as we can separate one from t'other."
"How?"
"Just like we do now. 'Pears to me the fish 'll bite as easy when they know they've got to make a dinner for we uns, stead o' for Aunty and Sylv, and the tarrapin 'll walk up to be cotched, and ground-nuts and rice 'll allays be plenty."
"Yes, yes, Dennie; but who's goin' to take keer of Aunty Losh?" said Adela, dropping back into the easier way of talking.
The young man's face fell, and he wrinkled his forehead. "That's a fact; that's a fact," he murmured, sadly. "Poor ole aunty! She's been a true mammy to we uns, and it ain't nachul to leave her be by herself. But Sylv mout take keer on her, Deely."
"Sylv's younger than you," she objected. "'Tain't his portion to do that."
"Mebbe he ar young," said Dennis; "but he's got a darn'd sight cuter head, some ways, than I have. And you mind now what I say, Deely, this hyar thing has got to stop one o' these hyar days. If it hadn't been for Sylv's mopin' over them books, and a-glowerin' and tryin' to make his self too wise, I'd a-been a heap better fixed."
"But Sylv wouldn't a-been," was the answer; "and he's worth thinkin' on a little."