'Oh! dunna, dunna!' wailed Hazel.
'Is a pin sticking into you dear?'
'No. Dunna say Ed'ard's quiet!'
Mrs. Marston looked amicably over her spectacles.
'My dear, why not?' she asked.
'I dunna like that sort.'
'Could you explain a little, dear?'
'I dunna like quiet men—nor quiet horses. My mam was quiet when she was dead. Everybody's quiet when they're dead.'
'Very, very quiet,' crooned Mrs. Marston. 'Yes, we all fall asleep in our turn.'
'I like,' went on Hazel in her rather crude voice, harsh with youth like a young blackbird's—'I like things as go quick and men as talk loud and stare hard and drive like the devil!'