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Tell him I gone wit' Mahooley. He rich. Give me ev'ryt'ing I want." "I not tell Sam that kind of stuff," returned Musq'oosis scornfully. "It is truth," she insisted sullenly. "I goin' all right." "If Sam come back sorry you feel bad you gone wit' Mahooley." "No, I glad!" she cried passionately. "I hope he want me when it is too late. I want turn him down. That mak' me feel good."
He mak' moch fun to me, but I not mad for cause I see he lak me just the same. Often he say to me, 'Musq'oosis, my boy, I bad lot." "Bad lot?" questioned Bela, "He mean no good," Musq'oosis explained. "That is his joke. I not believe ev'ryt'ing he tell me, no, not by a damnsight.
She thought that if the grim angel of death should clutch his heart, Pete would shrug his shoulders and say: "Oh, ev'ryt'ing goes." She anticipated that he would come again shortly. She spent some of her week's pay in the purchase of flowered cretonne for a lambrequin. She made it with infinite care and hung it to the slightly-careening mantel, over the stove, in the kitchen.
All tam so busy, got no tam t'ink wit' his head inside. So w'en he get old his son put him down. He is poor then. But a weak man he got notin' to do but look lak eagle at ev'ryt'ing and remember what he see. So w'en he is old he rich inside. W'en a man get old bad turn to good. Me, w'en I was yo'ng I sore for cause no woman want me.
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