He seemed to be amusing them both, and they were both amused beyond the merit of so small a pleasantry, Beaton thought, when Fulkerson said: "Introduce myself, Mr.Beaton: Mr.Fulkerson of 'Every Other Week.' Think I've met you at our place." The girls laughed, and Alma explained that her mother was not very well, and would be sorry not to see him.

Then she turned, as he felt, perversely, and went on talking with Fulkerson and left him to Miss Woodburn.
She finally recognized his disappointment: "Ah don't often get a chance at you, Mr.Beaton, and Ah'm just goin' to toak yo' to death.

Yo' have been Soath yo'self, and yo' know ho' we do toak." "I've survived to say yes," Beaton admitted.
"Oh, now, do you think we toak so much mo' than you do in the No'th ?" the young lady deprecated.
"I don't know.

I only know you can't talk too much for me.

I should like to hear you say Soath and house and about for the rest of my life." "That's what Ah call raght personal, Mr.Beaton.Now Ah'm goin' to be personal, too." Miss Woodburn flung out over her lap the square of cloth she was embroidering, and asked him: "Don't you think that's beautiful?
Now, as an awtust--a great awtust ?" "As a great awtust, yes," said Beaton, mimicking her accent.