And Candace ended with a guttural howl, and stood frowning and gloomy over the top of her long kitchen-shovel, like a black Bellona leaning on her spear of battle.
Digo recoiled a little, but stood too well in his own esteem to give up; so he shifted his attack.
‘Well, for my part, I must say I never was ’clined to your Doctor’s ’pinions. Why, now, Dr. Stiles says, notin’ couldn’t be more absurd dan what he says ’bout disinterested benevolence. My Doctor says, dere a’n’t no such ting!’
‘I should tink it’s likely!’ said Candace, drawing herself up with superb disdain. ‘Our Doctor knows dere is,—and why? ’cause he’s got it IN HERE,’ said she, giving her ample chest a knock which resounded like the boom from a barrel.
‘Candace,’ said Cato, gently, ‘you’s gettin’ too hot.’
‘Cato, you shut up!’ said Candace, turning sharp round. ‘What did I make you dat ar’ flip for, ’cept you was so hoarse you oughtn’ for to say a word? Pootty business, you go to agitatin’ your-self wid dese yer! Ef you wear out your poor old throat talkin’, you may get de ’sumption; and den what’d become o’ me?’
Cato, thus lovingly pitched hors de combat, sipped the sweetened cup in quietness of soul, while Candace returned to the charge.
A Discussion.