Rosanna, the Irish cook, sniffed. She was hanging out of the kitchen window listening to aunt Judy's tales of adventure. "She do talk the quarest, schure, an' it's barely the rear av her remarks thet a Christian can understhand;" mumbled Rosanna to herself.
"Well, but how about the twins, Aunt Judy? You said you'd tell us all about the twins just as soon as supper was over. Now, hurry, or I'll have to go to bed,".urged Howard.
The old woman shifted around in her chair to make sure the ears of Rosanna were not too near and lowered her voice to a stage whisper.
"Honey, dem dar twins is des so spilt dat dey is gettin' tainty!"
"Bad, you mean?" asked Roy.
"Dat's wat I said, an' dat's wat I sticks to. Dey's so spilte dey's tainty. Bad! Why bad ain't no name fo' hit. Dey is mouldy. De onliest reason why dey ain't in the lock-up is kase dey ain't got ketched up wid yit. Dey gwine ter git dar, sho' as yoh bawn. Dey is dat!"
"I don't believe it. I don't believe the twins are so bad. You are just mad at 'em. They—" Roy was always a partisan.
"Look a heah, honey, yoh don't know what yoh's talkin' 'bout. Dem twins is plum spilte, I tell yoh. Jerry, he's a teamin' an' he can't watch'em, an' dey maw she's a wuckin' fo' one er dem Congressers, an' dem twins is des plum run wile."
"Perhaps you expect too much of the morals of Washington," suggested Beverly, winking at Roy to give the old woman full sway.
"Mo'ls! mo'ls! Why, lawsy, honey, yoh don' know what yoh talkin' 'bout no mo' dan Mos' Roy do. Dey ain't no mo'ls in Washin-ton—white ner black. Mebby dem dar folks had some 'f o dey cum dar; but dey sholy did leave de whole lot back in de place whah dey cum fum! Dey sholy did dat. Mo'ls! In Washin'ton? Dey ain't none dar!" She shook her finger at Beverly.