"And p'raps his good appetite will make the little chap strong enough for a row on the bayou a bit arter gittin' done his breakfast," said a rough voice, seemingly coming from an open doorway into the outer hall.
"Now, who are you talking that way about me?" queried Ned, turning half way round in his chair in an effort to catch sight of the speaker.
"Who am I? Somebody that knows a thing or two 'bout boys an' what they can do, an' what they like; an' I guess you're not much different from other fellows o' your age an' sect. Be ye now?"
"No, I guess not," laughed Ned. "I don't belong to any sect, though. But I suppose you mean sex. I'm of the male kind."
"Oh, you are. Then I s'pose you're brave enough to venture a row on the bayou without fear o' bein' drowned?"
"Yes, indeed, with all these grown-up folks along to take care of me," laughed Ned. Then looking across the table at Mr. Lilburn, "Now that was just you talking, Cousin Ronald, wasn't it?"
"Why, Neddie boy, do you think that is the kind of English I speak?" queried Mr. Lilburn in a hurt tone, as if he felt insulted by such a suspicion in regard to his knowledge and use of the English tongue.
"No, Cousin Ronald, I didn't mean any harm; but haven't you different kinds of voices for different times and occasions?" returned Ned. "And weren't you kindly trying to make a bit of fun for me?"
"Ah, little chap, you seem to be good at guessing," laughed Mr. Lilburn; "a bit of a Yankee, aren't you?"
"No, sir; I'm a whole one," cried Ned, echoing the laugh. "But, papa," turning to his father, "can't we get in a boat and have a row on the bayou?"