“I d’ know how ‘tis,” went on the thin, minor voice, “but it always did seem to me ‘s though if I could remember my mother I could think stiddier, somehow. Do you think I could?”
Mr. Baker started to his feet.
“I’ll be dumbed ‘f I c’n stan’ it,” he shouted. “No, nor I won’t stan’ it, nuther!”
He walked noisily across the room.
He came back and stood in front of Ann, who had patiently resumed work.
“Come,” he said, “I think a lot of ye. Le’s git married.”
Ann looked up. She dropped her knife.
“Then I should live with you?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She laughed.