human
Give that to me,
gpt
What the--what does that--mean?
human
How should I know, Tate? But it set me thinking. Things often let loose ideas, you know. This being Christmas--and the stable and the manger and--and--the baby. It all fits in.
gpt
You mean --he tried awkwardly to follow her confused words;
human
Lord! Tate what are you thinking of? St. Angé may be wilder than Bethlehem in some ways, but there ain't never been no baby borned in _my_ manger.
gpt
Then what in thunder do you mean?
human
Nothing, Tate
gpt
I guess --she strangled over her emotions--
human
I guess--it's more like--a flight inter Egypt--than--than--a birthday party.
gpt
Get up, Bet! Tate was routed by the event. Finally he said slowly,
human
See here, old woman, I'm going to look inter that--baby boot, and don't you forget it. This ain't no time and place maybe, but Tate's going to have his senses onter any job that takes his possessions for granted. Give me--that flannel boot.
gpt
Tate--I can't.
human
Can't, hey?
gpt
Well then --and the declaration of independence rang out--
human
I won't!
gpt
What!
human
It don't belong to me.
gpt
Do you know who owns it?
human
I can--guess.
gpt
Guess then, by thunder!
human
It--belonged--to--Joyce's poor little dead young-un.
gpt
How in --then Tate blanched, for superstition held his dull wits.
human
How you 'spose it got there?
gpt
How can I tell, Tate? But I'll ask Joyce, to-morrer.