“That’s the whole trouble, Len. Me and Sailor ain’t as young as we used to was. I might git a job cookin’ some’ers, but old Sailor’s a total loss on the job question. Jist a couple of old derelicts. Len, it’s awful to git old, don’tcha know it?”
“Yeah, that’s right, Whisperin’. If I was in yore place, I’d stay here—if she’ll keep yuh—and I think she will. Looks like a sensible girl. Of course, she’d be advised by Baggs, but he’s a friend of mine, and I’ll ask him to tell her to keep you and Sailor.”
“You ain’t tryin’ to be comical, are yuh, Len?” Whisperin’ asked.
“What about?”
“About you and Amos Baggs bein’ friends.”
“No-o. He’ll do what I ask, Whisperin’.”
“Uh-huh?” dubiously. He walked to the kitchen door.
“That’s enough wood, Sailor!” he yelled.
“Fetch in both sticks, will yuh?”
Sailor came staggering in with an armful of wood, which he flung down with a great clatter.