“So, we worked him in as a friend of Mac’s. Dad actually hired him once to whitewash the palings!” she chuckled merrily at the thought, as did Bardek.
“Me! W’itewashes! Oop!” he clapped his hand across his ready mouth.
“Now I have a plan. Bardek is to take that little house back of us.”
“Take?” asked Bardek. “How do you take house?”
She shook a warning finger.
“The little white cottage, with the garden. You own it; don’t you? It is never rented. Well, Bardek is to live there, and do copper work. You come to see Mother Levering and pump her full of Bardek and have him hired for a teacher—to get ready for the exposition, you know. Say anything; make up something. Mother believes anything you tell her.”
“Wait!” exploded Bardek. “Please give me to speak. I to live in a house? W’ite house wit’ garden? and plumbing? and window sashes? and tables and chairs? and doors?”
To each article of the inventory Gorgas nodded.
“For me,” she added. “All for me.”
He turned energetically to Blynn. “I make mistake. There is one other t’ing I die for—to live like chicken in a house....” He looked at her curiously. “Nom d’une pipe!” he speculated. “I see I am going to do that t’ing.... Nom du nom d’une pipe! I am going to live in a house! Wah!” he laughed aloud, head thrown back. “You do not know w’at you ask. And I do not know w’at I do. I swear, ten, fifteen year ago, I take big oath that I nevair again live in house—some day I tell you zat story—and now,” he recovered and looked at Gorgas solemnly, “I do t’at t’ing.... All ri’—for you! Good! Bury me in your w’ite house.... Nom du nom du nom d’une pipe!”