"Deaf?—he? No, nor blind nuther. I wish he wuz; at his time o' life it wud be a sight more respectabler-like if he wuz one or t'other o' 'um. He ought to be 'shamed o' hisself, not to have no infarmities, an' he so awful ole. It 'pears as if the Lord had clean forgot the ole fellow—don't it now? An' 'tween you an' I, Alice, I rather 'spect he haz."
"Oh, Winny, don't talk so," said Alice; her own tender, filial feelings toward her only relative, her grandmother, making Winny's unfilial disrespect to her aged parent seem shocking to her—"Oh! don't talk so; you would be so sorry if he were to die."
"Die! Who die? He?—dad? Cotch 'im at it; I'd like to see 'im do it. Not he! He aint a goin' to die, I know. He don't want to, an' he dun'no how to, if he did. He neber died in all his life, an' I guess he aint a goin' to larn now. He's too old to larn nuffin'. He'll neber die; he wouldn't know how to begin."
"But, Winny," said Alice, returning to the main point in question, "do you think he can do what we want?"
