I wouldn't have such men as I live with know where my flower hides its little head.

I wouldn't have her run a chance of seeing any body who knows Derry Duck, and might tell her of his wild ways.

It would break her little heart, it would.

I can't write to her; not but what I was scholard somewhat, long ago; but these hands have had other work to do than holding a pen and making letters that a wise little girl like her would think all right.

I couldn't either put into words just what I want to say.