“Yes, most probable she dremp it.”
“Wall,” says I, “I hain't disputed you.”
“Hain't you a goin' to?” says he.
“No,” says I. And that seemed to quiet him down, and he went to sleep.
And I give up, that most probable she did, or didn't, one of the two.
But anyway, from that night, she didn't worry one bit about the boy.
She would talk to him sights about his bein' a good boy, but she would act and talk as if she was sure he would. She would look at him, not with the old, pitiful, agonized look, but with a sweet and happy light in her eyes.