"What you do it for?"
'Twas a demand. The wee lad was stirred an' earnest. An' why? I was troubled. 'Twas a queer thing altogether. I seed that a man must walk warily in answer lest he bruise a wound. 'Twas plain that there was a deal o' delicate mystery beneath an' beyond.
"Answer me fair," says I, in banter; "wouldn't a man like me make a fair-t'-middlin' pa for a lad like you?"
That startled un.
"I'd wager no fish on it, sir," says he, "afore I learned more o' your quality."
"Well, then," says I, "you've but a dull outfit o' manners."
He flashed a saucy grin at me. 'Twas agreeable enough. I deserved it. An' 'twas made mild with a twinkle o' humor.
"I've pricked your pride, sir," says he. "I'm sorry."
"Answer me, then, in a mannerly way," says I, "Come now! Would I pass muster as a pa for a lad like you?"
He turned solemn an' earnest.