"He's mine."
"He's no more yours than mine. Besides, he ain't a country boy. He's no poor man's child. He's a delicate morsel, no arms, no legs."
"He's the prettiest boy in the village!"
"I don't say he ain't pretty. But sturdy, no! Do you think you can make a working man out of a chit with shoulders like his? He's a city child and there's no place for city children here."
"I tell you he's a fine boy and as intelligent and cute as a little cat, and he's got a good heart, and he'll work for us...."
"In the meantime we've got to work for him, and I'm no good for much now."
"If his parents claim him, what will you say?"
"His parents! Has he got any parents? They would have found him by now if he had. It was a crazy thing for me to think that his parents would come and claim him some day and pay us for his keep. I was a fool. 'Cause he was wrapped up in fine clothes trimmed with lace, that wasn't to say that his parents were going to hunt for him. Besides, they're dead."
"Perhaps they're not. And one day they may come...."