"You need to be easy with physic, too," declared the girl, with sparkling eyes. "Don't give 'em physic ever unless they're real sick." The man's crestfallen appearance set Birdie giggling. She was enjoying the situation. She meant to upset all Sandy's preconceived ideas. "Now, pork?" he suggested, but with less assurance. But Birdie was obdurate. "Never," she declared emphatically. "Beans, yes. There's good nourishment in beans. Then ther's fresh vegetables--heaps of 'em." "Ah! Now, how 'bout fixin' them right--the kids, I mean? Guess they'll need bathin'." But Birdie fell upon him with a strong denial. "Bath?" she cried. "Gee! you do run on. Guess you want to hand 'em newmony. Kids sure don't never need bathin'. Jest a lick with soap an' hot water once a week. An' say," she went on, suddenly remembering something she had told Toby in a fit of mischief, "kep their food soft, or you'll break their young teeth." Sandy's eyes lit, and in an unguarded moment he admitted that the thought had occurred to him. Birdie caught him up at once. "I tho't you was just astin' me these questions to see if I was right for gettin' married?" she protested innocently. "That's so--course," he said hastily. Then he wriggled out of it. "But how'd I be able to say you was right if I hadn't tho't on things some myself?" "Ah! I didn't just think of that." "Course not. Gals never see the fine points of good argyment." Sandy's superiority was overwhelming, but Birdie had borne with him with amused patience until now. She had known him a long time as a boarder, but never until now had she realized the blundering conceit that was his. She felt that she had given him rope enough, and it was time to bring him up with a jerk. "Thank you kindly, sir," she mocked him, curtseying. "You're welcome, ma'am," Sandy returned, with a clumsy bow, failing to realize her change of attitude. "If you guess I'm right for marryin', maybe you'll hand me my diploma," she said, with a demure down-drooping of her eyelids. She waited, and finally glanced up into his flushed face. Her sarcasm had struck home at last, and without hesitation she went on mercilessly-- "Say, if you ain't goin' to hand me a diploma, guess you can let me get on with my sewin'. Havin' been a married man, maybe you'll understand men-folk ain't a heap of use around when a woman's sewin'. Guess they're handy ladlin' out most things, but I'd say a man ain't no more use round the eye of a needle than a camel." Sandy's dignity and temper were ruffled. It was inconceivable that Birdie--or, as he mentally apostrophized her, "this blamed hash-slinger"--should so flout him. How dared she? He was so angry that words for once utterly failed him, and he moved towards the door with gills as scarlet as any blustering turkey-cock. But Birdie had no idea of sparing him, and hurled her final sarcasm as she turned again to her cupboard.