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212 “Can’t tell me der’s a man libin’ who wouldn’t be crazy fur yo’ to lub him, Miss Bambi. Look at dat Mister Strong keeps a-comin’ here.”

“What about him?” asked Bambi in surprise.

“I see him lookin’ at you. I see him.”

“Nonsense! He has to look at me to talk with me.”

“He don’ need to do no talkin’, wid his eyes a-workin’ like dat.”

“You old romancer!”

“Look a-heah, chile, dose cherries fo’ to preserve. Dey ain’t fo’ eatin’. You’re eatin’ two and puttin’ one in de pan.”

Bambi made a face at her.

“What is your opinion of men, Ardelia?”

“I tink dey’s all right in dey place.”

“Where’s their place?”

“Out in the kennel wid the dawg!” said Ardelia, shaking with laughter. “All ’cepin’ the Perfessor and Massa Jarvis,” she added.

“You think they are a lower order, do you?”

“Yassum. I sho’ do. Mos’ of dem just clutterin’ up the earth.”

“That’s the reason you don’t take that Johnson man on for good, is it?”

“Sho'! I ain’t a-goin’ to cook and wash fo’ no