"I'm giving you to King George," remarked Tilda. "I'm sorry you ain't taller, but he'll understand I've done the best I can for 'im," she added with a little sigh.
"But—but—" faltered Jem.
"There ain't no buts about it," broke in Tilda with swift asperity. "Think what you'd feel like if you was me."
"Why, it's you a-sendin' me," protested Jem. "I won't go if you don't want me to leave yer."
Tilda flung back her head with an impatient snort at man's obtuseness.
"You don't s'pose I'm whinin' cos you're goin', do you?" she demanded.
An abashed Jem diminished perceptibly.
"Well, why then?" he asked humbly.
"Cos I can't go, stoopid. It ain't fair."