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We haven't had the weather up yet, have we? Or the opera? What is the matter with a few remarks about politics?" "Why, Ah thoat you lahked to toak about the staff of yo' magazine," said Miss Woodburn. "Oh, I do!" said Fulkerson. "But not always about the same member of it. He gets monotonous, when he doesn't get complicated. I've just come round from the Marches'," he added, to Mrs. Leighton.
"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."
He felt that he had trenched upon March's province, and he framed one apology to the editor for bringing him the manuscript, and another to the author for bringing it back. "Most Ah hold raght still like it was a photograph?" asked Miss Woodburn. "Can Ah toak?" "Talk all you want," said Alma, squinting her eyes. "And you needn't be either adamantine, nor yet wooden." "Oh, ho' very good of you!
Ah don't want to go round feelin' like a sheet of papah half the time." "You could rattle on, just the same," suggested Alma. "Oh, now! Jost listen to that, Mr. Fulkerson. Do you call that any way to toak to people?"
Well, if Ah can toak go on, Mr. Fulkerson!" "Me talk? I can't breathe till this thing is done!" sighed Fulkerson; at that point of his mental drama the Colonel was behaving rustily about the return of his manuscript, and he felt that he was looking his last on Miss Woodburn's profile. "Is she getting it raght?" asked the girl. "I don't know which is which," said Fulkerson. "Oh, Ah hope Ah shall!
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.
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.
Miss Woodburn found a chance to murmur to him before he went: "He'll come. And Ah'm so much oblahged, Mr. Fulkerson. Ah jost know it's all you' doing, and it will give papa a chance to toak to some new people, and get away from us evahlastin' women for once." "I don't see why any one should want to do that," said Fulkerson, with grateful gallantry.
"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."
Well, if Ah can toak go on, Mr. Fulkerson!" "Me talk? I can't breathe till this thing is done!" sighed Fulkerson; at that point of his mental drama the Colonel was behaving rustily about the return of his manuscript, and he felt that he was looking his last on Miss Woodburn's profile. "Is she getting it raght?" asked the girl. "I don't know which is which," said Fulkerson. "Oh, Ah hope Ah shall!
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