The baby, now you've got
her cleaned up, is han'somer 'n any baby on the river, 'n' a reg'lar
chunk o' sunshine besides. I'd be willin' ter pay her a little suthin'
for livin' alongside. The boy--well, the boy is a extra-ordinary boy. We
got on tergether's slick as if we was twins. That boy's got idees,
that's what he's got; 'n' he's likely to grow up into--well, 'most
anything."
"If you think so highly of 'em, why don't you adopt 'em?" asked Miss
Vilda curtly. "That's what they seem to think folks ought to do."
"I ain't sure but I shall," Mr. Slocum responded unexpectedly. "If you
can't find a better home for 'em somewheres, I ain't sure but I'll take
'em myself. Land sakes! if Rhapseny was alive I'd adopt 'em quicker 'n
blazes; but marm won't take to the idee very strong, I don't s'pose, 'n'
she ain't much on bringin' up children, as I ken testify. Still, she's a
heap better 'n a brick asylum with a six-foot stone wall round it, when
yer come to that. But I b'lieve we ken do better for 'em. I can say to
folks, 'See here: here's a couple o' smart, han'some children. You can
have 'em for nothin', 'n' needn't resk the onsartainty o' gittin'
married 'n' raisin' yer own; 'n' when yer come ter that, yer wouldn't
stan' no charnce o' gittin' any as likely as these air, if ye did.'"
"That's true as the gospel!" said Samantha. It nearly killed her to
agree with him, but the words were fairly wrung from her unwilling lips
by his eloquence and wisdom.
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