“Yes, down to Aunt Ar’tics!” she snorted, “I should say down to Aunt Ar’tics! I like to know whose kinfolks dat Aunt Ar’tics is, anyway! I ain’ nevah heard o’ none o’ Mistah Gale’s people by dat name, an’ if she some o’ yo’ po’ relation, I don’ see what foh _we_-all mus’ go trailin’ off down to de mos’ Godforlonesomest spot on dis earth, to visit in de dead o’ wintah. An’ what my Miss Edith goin’ foh, anyway? What my Miss Edith got to do wid yo’ old Aunt Ar’tics, dat’s what I wan’ to know? Humph! moah antics dan Ar’tics—dat’s what I think!” My emotions during this assault had been rather conflicting, but I managed to maintain a proper degree of calmness. “Why,” I said gravely, “this ‘Antarctics’ bears a relationship to us all—to the whole world, in fact.” I rather prided myself on the cleverness of this rejoinder, but it appeared after all to have been rather poorly thought out. “Dat’s enough! Dat settles it,” she exploded. “Now I know mighty well dey ain’ no sech pussun. Kinfolks to de whole worl’. Look heah, me an’ my Miss Edith has jes’ been deceptified long enough! I know wheah you gwine wid dis boat! You gwine to de Souf Pole—dat’s wheah you gwine! I done heah de Cap’n say so las’ night, an’ dat when he got dar he gwine to sail her off into space wid de whole kit an’ possum of us! I know mighty well somp’n gone wrong when I put Miss Edith to baid. She ain’ said two words, an’ befoah dat she been mighty chipper de whole trip. I didn’t know what it was, an’ I set an’ hol’ her han’ an’ sing to her, an’ it seem like she ain’ _nevah_ goin’ to sleep. But bimeby when I slip up on deck a li’l’, to look at de sky, I heah de Cap’n an’ Mistah Lahkins argifyin’ up on de bridge, an’ I heah de Cap’n say dat we goin’ to de Souf Pole an’, ’scusin’ de libe’ty, sah, dat you gone plum crazy on de subjec’, and dat you got de Admiral an’ Mistah Macarony an’ Mistah Sturritt all crazy, laikewise; an’ dat he gwine to sail you-all to de Souf Pole, case dat wheah you-all b’long, an’ dat you-all nevah get home, case when he get dere he gwine straight off into space wid de ship, an’ de whole caboodle in it. An’ den right away, I knowed what’s de mattah wid my Miss Edith. I knowed she been up dar a-hearin’ somp’n, too. An’ I make up my min’, right den an’ dar, dat me an’ my Miss Edith ain’ gwine. I like to see me an’ my Miss Edith flyin’ off into space, an’ us wid no wings yit, an’ fallin’ down to de bottomless pit an’ lake o’ fiah! Humph! We’s gwine de other way, we is!” She hesitated a moment for breath, and I took advantage of the recess. “What did Mr. Larkins say about it?” I asked.