"Aya, yaya, nika toketie dless kokshut, no good. Pete him wicket man, aya!"
Oh, think of it! That beautiful green and yellow and red silk so fine and thick and soft and shining t That "dless" which it contained as a possibility, that her natural woman's eye put on her pretty self! Aya, Yaya! Even a dear white woman would be very cross indeed if her man came in and said, "You damn person, you have a roll of silk given you by Smith or Brown or Jones," and then tore it up. Aya, Yaya! How sad for poor Jenny, only nineteen, and so sweet to look at and with a love of colour. Aya, as I speak I feel "hyu keely." I could mourn with Jenny and say I'd get her another roll of silk, for a kiss, perhaps, for the devil's in such a pretty dear. Tut, tut, it's a sad world and a wicked, and the pretty ones are the devil, aya, yaya!
It was quiet enough in Shack-Town in the afternoon and a continual aya, yaya-ing soon attracted the attention of Indian Annie when she came from begging up-town past Pete's shack.
"Aha, oho," said the bundle of wicked rags, once a beautiful klootchman and a white sea-captain's darling, and yet another's and another's, ay de mi, as Chihuahua said when he was sad, and others still in a devil of a long diminuendo and degringolade and a sad, sad fall, just as if she had been an improper white. "Oho, why Jenny cly, kahta she cly?"
In she went, for she knew Pete was wedging-off, and in the inner room she found a pretty one half naked on the silken rag carpet.
"Oh, my toketie Jenny, kahta cly? Oh, Lejaub, the pretty stuff all tole up, yaya? Who done it, Jenny, real kloshe silk all assame white klootchman have in chu'ch? Who give him, aya?"
She was down on her knees gathering up the silk in whole armfuls.
"Dis Pete? Eh, Pete, pelton Pete, fool Pete, eh?"
Jenny sobbed out it was Pete who had torn it all up, and Annie nodded cunningly as she stuffed a good bundle of it into her rags.
"Aha, pelton Pete mamook si'k kokshut, but klaksta potlatsh mika, nika toketie, who give him you, my pretty?"