were all so in love of Miss Pratt was because she talks baby-talk, an’ he said he couldn’t stand much more baby-talk.  Mamma, she has the loveliest little white dog, an’ Mr. Parcher doesn’t like it.  He said he couldn’t go anywhere around the place without steppin’ on the dog or Willie Baxter.  An’ he said he couldn’t sit on his own porch any more; he said he couldn’t sit even in the liberry but he had to hear baby-talk goin’ on SOMEwheres an’ then either Willie Baxter or Joe Bullitt or somebody or another arguin’ about love.  Mamma, he said”—­Jane became impressive—­“he said, mamma, he said he didn’t mind the Sunday-school class, but he couldn’t stand those dam boys!”

“Jane!” Mrs. Baxter cried, “you mustn’t say such things!”

“I didn’t, mamma.  Mr. Parcher said it.  He said he couldn’t stand those da—­”

“Jane!  No matter what he said, you mustn’t repeat—­”

“But I’m not.  I only said Mr. Parcher said he couldn’t stand those d—­”

Mrs. Baxter cut the argument short by imprisoning Jane’s mouth with a firm hand.  Jane continued to swallow quietly until released.  Then she said: 

“But, mamma, how can I tell you what he said unless I say—­”

“Hush!” Mrs. Baxter commanded.  “You must never, never again use such a terrible and wicked word.”

“I won’t, mamma,” Jane said, meekly.  Then she brightened.  “Oh, I know!  I’ll say ‘word’ instead.  Won’t that be all right?”

“I—­I suppose so.”

“Well, Mr. Parcher said he couldn’t stand those word boys.  That sounds all right, doesn’t it, mamma?”

Mrs. Baxter hesitated, but she was inclined to hear as complete as possible a report of Mr. and Mrs. Parcher’s conversation, since it seemed to concern William so nearly; and she well knew that Jane had her own way of telling things—­or else they remained untold.

“I—­I suppose so,” Mrs. Baxter said, again.

“Well, they kind of talked along,” Jane continued, much pleased;—­“an’ Mr. Parcher said when he was young he wasn’t any such a—­such a word fool as these young word fools were.  He said in all his born days Willie Baxter was the wordest fool he ever saw!”

Willie Baxter’s mother flushed a little.  “That was very unjust and very wrong of Mr. Parcher,” she said, primly.

“Oh no, mamma!” Jane protested.  “Mrs. Parcher thought so, too.”

“Did she, indeed!”

“Only she didn’t say word or wordest or anything like that,” Jane explained.  “She said it was because Miss Pratt had coaxed him to be so in love of her, an’ Mr. Parcher said he didn’t care whose fault it was, Willie was a—­a word calf an’ so were all the rest of ’em, Mr. Parcher said.  An’ he said he couldn’t stand it any more.  Mr. Parcher said that a whole lot of times, mamma.  He said he guess’ pretty soon he’d haf to be in the lunatic asylum if Miss Pratt stayed a few more days with her word little dog an’ her word Willie Baxter an’ all the other word calfs.  Mrs. Parcher said he oughtn’t to say ‘word,’ mamma.  She said, ‘Hush, hush!’ to him, mamma.  He talked like this, mamma:  he said, ’I’ll be word if I stand it!’ An’ he kept gettin’ crosser, an’ he said, ’Word!  Word!  Word!  WOR—­’”