hark to him right smart, ‘thout talkin’ th’ hull time youse’f.”

“I has to tell him ‘bouts th’ ros’n ears — he said so. Thar they be.” He pointed to a bunch of Indian corn. “You wrop ‘em up in ther shucks, whilst ther green an’ sof’, and kiver ‘em up in th’ ashes whar hit’s right hot, and then when ther rosted, eat ‘em so. Now, what do you know?”

“Why, he knows a heap, son. Don’t ax that-a-way.”

“In my country, away across the ocean — ” began David.

“Tell ‘bout th’ ocean, how hit look.”

“In my country we don’t