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I ain't goin' to be married I am married! Day before yesterday, in New Orleans. And I don't believe in dandlin' an' foolin' around about a little thing like that. Ain't you married yet?" "No. Impossible. No preacher on Côte Blanche Bay or on our boat. I've got Aunt Lucinda Daniver along, to take care of the proprieties. If I should leave it to her, I never would be married." "Why?"

"Wumph!" coughed the elder. "To think of you old coots dandlin' a baby on your knees and buyin' it pep'mint candy and the Lord knows what, and walkin' down the street, each of you holdin' one of its hands and it walkin' betwixt you.... Dummed if I don't congratulate you." The deacon looked at the elder and the elder looked at the deacon. They grinned, frostily at first, then more broadly.

There was a pretty row. "Look here, sir," says she, "at the conduck of your precious trull of a daughter alone with this man, kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows what besides." "What, he?" cries Miss Betsy "he in love with Mary.

If you and Miss Quinn could be seen in the nursery windows dandlin' a baby on each arm, and singin' lullabies to 'em for a few days, it'd attract attention, inspire faith in the timid, and public confidence would be restored. The tide of babies'd turn your way after a while, and the nursery would prove a howlin' success."