I ain't none of your Britons nor Cornish pasties neither, nor nothing like 'em." "No, you are a thoroughbred Devonshire dumpling, we know," said Dan soothingly, "and not so bad considering, and you can make a pasty like a native, though you aren't one, and never will be.

It is a pity too, for Jabez only likes--" "I don't care nothing about Jabez, nor what he likes, nor what he doesn't," cried Fanny, bending down over her oven to hide a conscious blush which would spread over her round cheeks.

"There's good and bad of every sort, and I don't despise none.

I only pities 'em if they ain't Demshur." "That is awfully good of you," said Dan solemnly.

"We can cheer up again after that.