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"There! there!" Captain Elisha interrupted hastily, "don't tell me any more. I'd rather guess that the baby bunks in the cookstove oven than know it for sartin. How did the grapes I sent you go?" turning to the sick man. "Aw, sor! they were foine. God bless you, sor! Mary be kind to you, sor! Sure the angels'll watch over you every day you live and breathe!"
The yellow head bent forward in assent. "And how they're stronger'n a whole bunch of men?" "Yes," breathed Bobbie; "but the chair the men've got that, an' mebbe the angels'll be busy when they're puttin' the cobbler in it." This idea made him shriek out louder than before: "They'll kill Lafe! Oh, Jinnie, they will!" "They can't!" denied Jinnie, rigidly. "They can't! Listen, Bobbie."
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