"Give me your knife, Casey Wyan, so I can cut off one ear an' _make_ you lop-sided!" "An' you'd do it, too!" Casey exclaimed admiringly.
"Baby Girl, you interrupted mother when mother was speaking of something important.

You make mother very sad." Babe's mouth puckered, her eyelids puckered, and she give a small wail.
"Now Baby's sad! You hurt--my--_feelin's_ when you speak to me cross!" She shook her yellow curls into her eyes and wept against them.
There was no hope of grown-ups talking about anything so foolish as a gold mine when Babe was in that mood.

So Casey cooked supper, washed the dishes and helped Babe into her pyjamas; then he let her kneel restively in his lap while she said her prayers, and told her a story while he rocked her to sleep--it was a funny, Caseyish story about a bear, but we haven't time for it now--before he attempted to ask the Little Woman again what she meant by her mysterious curiosity concerning Injun Jim.

Then, when he had his pipe going and the stove filled with pinon wood, he turned to her with the question in his eyes.
The Little Woman laughed.

"Now, if that terrible child will kindly consent to sleep for fifteen minutes, _I'll_ tell you what I meant," she said.