"I think a man bane much like a stocking," replied Thora. "He need plenty darning if he bane going to wear good."
"Have you ever been in love, Thora?" Mary thrust directly and Thora countered.
"Why? Bane you looking for a cure? I think that Mister Sheridan, he bane pretty good man."
"And I think it's time to go to bed. I'm tired. Tomorrow we'll send an invitation down to both of them to come up and see the new place." Mary rose and went to the door, opening it on to the verandah. The air gushed in, fragrant with the scent of drying grasses, the delicate perfume of yucca bloom.
"I'd like to sleep out tonight, and every night it is like this," the girl went on. "Beneath a blanket underneath the stars."
"When you bane got your own four-poster bed yust set up? There bane no springs in the ground. I bane too heavy for such sleeping. And I don't like no lion sniffin' round me in the night. Wait till I kill that second one."
"I forgot about the lion, Thora. We'll sleep in the four-poster tonight. It would be ungrateful not to. But we can leave the doors all open, now the gate is there. Let in the out-of-doors as much as we can."
"Then you bane go to bed, pretty, and I'll come as soon as I bane finish this stocking." Mary smothered a yawn, picked up a candlestick and lit the wick, then disappeared into the inner room. After a while Thora rolled up her work and put it
