"What do you say?"
"I guess no one don't want me."
"Perhaps not; but if somebody would have you, would you be a good girl?"
"I s'pose I'd get dinner reglar," said the little black girl, still fingering the edge of her basket.
"Certainly! —and something better than figs."
"Be them figs?" said Clam, suddenly looking up at him.
"Yes — the sweet ones."
"Goody! — I didn't know that before."
"Well — you haven't answered me yet."
"I don't care much," — said Clam. "Is it your house?"