"Why, sure," says I hearty. "Sure you can."
So I went in the kitchen and found her where she was stirring lemon-juice in my big stone crock. And when I told her, first she turned red-rose red, and then she turned white-rose white.
"Me?" she says. "Who can want me? Who knows I'm here?"
"You go on and answer the 'phone, child," I says to her. "Him and me, we understand each other perfectly."
So she went. I couldn't help hearing what she said.
"Yes."
"Yes."
"You are?"
"It doesn't matter in the least."
"If you wish."