"Doesn't your wife mind you running around, doing all this squeezing?"
"Naw. The old lady helps me."
"What!" Toffee looked horrified. "You mean she's mixed up in this squeezing business too!"
"Sure. Her and the whole family."
"Oh, my gosh!" Toffee moaned. "This is too much. I suppose it shows a nice enterprising spirit on the part of you and your family, but isn't it all a little hard to get used to?"
The old man shook his head. "Don't know why it should be," he mused. "You city people sure do get some strange notions in your heads."
"We don't hold a candle to you country people," Toffee retorted. "But I suppose, being up here alone and all, squeezings do begin to take on a certain importance after a while."
"That's right," the old man agreed. "They're mighty comfortin' on a cold night. Mighty nice when everyone's scrouged up around the fire."
"Scrouged up?" Toffee asked timidly. "You mean you have to be scrouged up for these squeezings?"
Marc suddenly appeared at the opposite window, wiping his hands on a rag with an air of finality. He regarded the old man mildly. "What can I do for you, old timer?" he asked.