The men were all staring at her, the assistant inspector most intently, for this flow of language from the supposedly deaf and dumb child surprised even him—a man used to surprises.
"I'm goin' to repent some day," continued 'Tilda Jane, sadly, "just as soon as I get out o' this, an' enjoyin' fam'ly life. I'm goin' to repent of all 'cept one thing, an' I can't repent 'bout that 'cause I dunno if it's wrong. Do you like dogs?" and she abruptly addressed the assistant inspector.
"No," he said, brusquely.
"What do you like?" she went on, wistfully, "cats, birds, children—do you like girls, sir, nice little girls with blue eyes an' curly hair?"
The assistant inspector was a remarkably fine blond specimen of a man, and, as he was popular among the young women of the neighbourhood, 'Tilda Jane's artless question produced a burst of laughter from his companions, and a furious flaming of colour in his own face.
"'I'M GOIN' TO REPENT SOME DAY.'"
Her question had gone home, and she proceeded. "Suppose you had a nice little girl an' some one wanted to take her away, an' frighten her, an' tie jinglin' things to her an' make her run, an' you'd ketch her up an' run off to the woods, would that be awful wicked, do you s'pose, an' would you have to repent?"