He had guessed it. Kenelm that morning had suddenly announced that he was to have a day off. He was cal'latin' to borrow Mrs. Barnes' horse and buggy and go for a ride. His sister promptly declared that would be lovely; she was just wishing for a ride. Whereupon Kenelm had hemmed and hawed and, at last, admitted that his company for the drive was already provided.
“Oh!” sneered Hannah. “I see. You're goin' to take that precious inmate of yours along. And I've got to set here alone at home. Well, I should think you'd be ASHAMED.”
“What for? Ain't nothin' in takin' a lady you're keepin' company with out drivin', is there? I don't see no shame in that.”
“No, I presume likely YOU don't. You're way past shame, both of you. And when I think of all I've done for you. Slaved and cooked your meals—”
“Well, you're cookin' 'em yet, ain't you? I ain't asked you to stop.”
“I will stop, though. I will.”
“All right, then; heave ahead and stop. I cal'late my wife'll be willin' to cook for me, if it's needful.”
“Your wife! She ain't your wife yet. And she shan't be. This ridiculous engaged business of yours is—is—”
“Well, if you don't like the engagin', why don't you stop it?”
“Why don't YOU stop it, you mean. You would if you had the feelin's of a man.”