"Make the old beldam go away, won't you?" whispered the man.
"I'll try," she whispered back rather nervously. Then, raising her voice, she called out in slightly strained, somewhat artificial voice, which to the understanding of the annoyed young man in the hammock appeared to have almost a suggestion of apprehension in it:
"Is—is that you, Aunt Sharley?"
The answer was little more than a grunt.
"Well, Aunt Sharley, hadn't you better be seeing about supper?"
"Num'mine 'bout supper. Ise tendin' to de supper. Ise bound de supper'll be ready 'fo' you two chillens is ready fur to eat it."
Within, the chair continued to creak steadily.
The girl spread out her hands with a gesture of helplessness.
"You see how it is," she explained under her breath. "Auntie is so set in her ways!"
"And she's so set in that rocking-chair too," he retorted grimly. Saying what he said next, he continued to whisper, but in his whisper was a suggestion of the proprietorial tone. Also for the first time in his life he addressed her without the prefix of Miss before her name. This affair plainly was progressing rapidly, despite the handicaps of a withered black duenna in the immediate offing.