'No, my girl, you can't live here no more, endangerin' the young men.

You go away.

Best for you's where they'll teach you to be'ave.

Go on! Out with you! I don't care where you go; but you just go!' 'Tis as if girls were all pats o' butter--same square, same pattern on it, same weight, an' all." Derek had come closer; he put his hand down and gripped her arm.

Her eloquence dried up before the intentness of his face, and she just stared up at him.
"Now, look here, Wilmet; you promise me not to scoot without letting us know.