“You bet yeh!” adding, for purpose of emphasis, “By gar!”
“Six cylinder, self-starter,” continued Sam with increasing enthusiasm.
“Self-starter,” echoed Joe, going off into a series of choking chuckles. “Sure t'ing, by gar!” Joe, having safely disposed of the muffles, gave himself up to unrestrained laughter, throwing back his head, slapping his knees and repeating at intervals, “Self-starter, by gar!”
So infectious was his laughter that the whole company joined in.
“Cut it out, boys,” said Nora. “You are all talking rot, you know; and what about you,” she added, turning swiftly upon her sister. “Who runs the house, I'd like to know, and looks after everything inside, and does the sewing? This outfit of mine, for instance? And her own outfit?”
“Oh, Nora,” protested Kathleen, the colour rising in her face.
“Did you make your own costume?” inquired Mr. Romayne.
“She did that,” said Nora, “and mine and mother's, and she makes father's working shirts.”
“Oh, Nora, stop, please. You know I do very little.”
“She makes the butter as well.”