"Well," Mr. Sanders retorted, "ef you'd put your thoughts in a bag and shake 'em up, an' then pour 'em out, you couldn't tell 'em from these flyin' ants that was swarmin' from under your front steps awhile ago. No, Jonas! Don't le' me shatter any fond dream you've got about me, but sence Nan Dorrin'ton come into the state of Georgy by the Santy Claus route, this little gal is the only human bein' that I ever wanted to pick up an' smother wi' huggin' an' kissin'." "Is that so, Sanders?" old Jonas inquired, straightening up, with a queer sparkle in his little eyes. "Why, I never thought----" "Tooby shore you didn't," Mr. Sanders interrupted. "Nobody ever thought that you had any sech thoughts. Ef it was a crime to think 'em, an' you was to git took up on sech a charge, the case'd be non-prosecuted by the time it got in the courthouse. When it comes to that you've got the majority of folks wi' you. You'll hear 'em talk an' brag how fond they are of children, from morning tell night, but jest let one of the youngsters make a big fuss, an' you'll see 'em flinch like the'r feelin's is hurt. No Jonas, don't fool yourself. This world, an' not only this world, but this town is full of children so lonesome that when I think about it I feel right damp; an' thar's times when I set an' think of these little things runnin' about wi' not a soul on top of the yeth for to reely understand 'em, my heart gits so full that ef some un was to slip up behind me an' put salt on my back, I reely believe I'd melt an' turn to water like one of these gyarden snails. It's the honest fact. Now, that child in thar--Adelaide--has allers had some un to understand her an' know what she was thinkin' about; allers tell she come here. Ef I hadn't know'd her mother, I could tell jest by lookin' at Adelaide an' hearin' her talk, that she was one 'oman amongst ten thousan'." "You put me in the wrong, Sanders, indeed you do; you may not intend it, but you certainly do me wrong."