"Lize Jane Bean, what you talking about?"
"Why, you said your mother warn't sick."
"No, her strength is better, but she don't 'low me to do things, Lize Jane Bean, 'thout—'thout she lets me."
"Of course not; but I guess she don't know you want a party so dreadful bad, Maggie, or she would let you. I don't believe your mother is ugly."
"But she never said I might have a party, though."
"No, for she don't think about it. She ain't a bad woman, your mother ain't, only she don't think. Your mother don't mean to be ugly."
Lize Jane spoke in a large-hearted way, at the same time stripping currant-stems very industriously. "She'd feel glad afterwards, s'posing you did have a party, I'll bet."
"O, Lize Jane, what a girl! 's if I'd do it 'thout my mother said I might."
"O, I didn't mean a real big party; did you s'pose I did? I didn't know but you could ask me and some of the girls to supper, and not call it a party. We'd play ou' doors."
"O, I didn't know that's what you meant. But I can't,—'cause,—'cause."—