"Wal, I'd rather get some things any day than a bad cold." "Shore I've had both," replied Flo, in her easy drawl, "and I'd prefer the cold.

But for Carley's sake--" "Pray don't consider me," said Carley.

The rather crude drift of the conversation affronted her.
"Well, my dear," put in Glenn, "it's a bad night outside.

We'll all make our beds here." "Glenn, you shore are a nervy fellow," drawled Flo.
Long after everybody was in bed Carley lay awake in the blackness of the cabin, sensitively fidgeting and quivering over imaginative contact with creeping things.

The fire had died out.