Casey Ryan kissed it des like _that!_ So now it'll get all well!" If the Little Woman had wanted to tell Casey what she thought of him, she couldn't just then, for Casey was halfway to his own camp by the time she glanced around the room, looking for him.
Common humanity drove him back, of course.

He couldn't let a woman and a child starve to death just because he was a damned idiot and had half-killed the woman.

But if there had been another person within calling distance, the Little Woman would probably never have seen Casey Ryan again.
Necessity has a bland way of ignoring such things as conventions and the human emotions.

Casey cooked supper for Babe and the Little Woman, and washed the dishes, and wrung out cloths from hot vinegar and salt so that the Little Woman could bathe her knee--she had to do it left-handed, at that--and unbuttoned Babe's clothes and helped her on with her pyjamas and let her kneel on his lap while she said her prayers.

Because, as Babe painstakingly explained, she always kneeled on a lap so ants couldn't run over her toes and tickle her and make her laugh, which would make God think she was a bad, naughty girl.
Can you picture Casey Ryan rocking that child to sleep?
I can't--yes, I can too, and there's something in the picture that holds back the laugh you think will come.
Before she gave her final wriggle and cheeped her last little cheep, Babe had to be carried over and held down where she could kiss mamma good night.