"A babe! Bless me! give the child to me," cried the woman. "Now then, Jamaica, bundle out of that, and let me get at the baby."
"No, I will not, Betsy," retorted the man designated Jamaica. "Why should I? Ask for an inch, and they'll have an ell. Stick in the toe of the baby, and they'll have the dead father after it. I don't want no corpses here."
"I will have the baby. I haven't set my eyes on a baby this hundred years."
"I say you shan't have nothing of the sort."
"I say I shall. If I choose to have a baby, who's to say me nay?"
"I say you nay. You shan't have no babies here."
"This is my house as much as yourn."
"I'm master I reckon."
"You are an old crabstick."
"You're an old broom-handle."