"Ah, Mr. Ben, you know you are by far too kind not to be; and so I feel as though it would be quite a relief to me to tell you everything."
"Everything?"
"Yes, all—all."
"Not all the particulars, surely. Come—come. I ain't an old woman, you know, my dear."
"An old woman, Ben?"
"No, my dear, I say I ain't an elderly female, so I don't think I ought to listen to all the particulars, do you know. Come—come, you go home now, and say no more about it to me. Easy does it, you know; and keep your own counsel. I won't say a word; but don't you, because you are in such a state of mind as you hardly know what you are about, go on blubbering to me about all the particulars, when perhaps to-morrow you'll give one of your pretty little ears that you had not said a word to me about it."
"Alas!—Alas!"
"Pho! Pho! Easy does it."
"Who am I to cling to but you?"
"Cling to me? Perhaps you'll say it's me?"