"Yes, indeed, and we'd have all kinds of typhoid fever and things if it wasn't for these here—these springkeepers," declared the boy. Rebecca continued the policy adopted at their first meeting, that of correcting his uncouth English.
"It seems like a fairy to me—one that has been changed into a hideous form by some old witch and can only resume its beautiful form after having purified gallons and gallons of water," she said.
Jo laughed. "I reckon there ain't much fairy about this old bug."
"Ain't, Jo?"
"Well, isn't, then!"
"Jo, do you mind when I pick on you? I'll stop it if you do."
"No, I kinder like it. I don't 'low Betsy to do it. I reckon it's because she's got a right to."
"Maybe that's the reason I hate to have Aunt Evelyn and Aunt Myra correcting me so much. Perhaps they have a right to. They certainly do exercise their rights pretty freely. I wonder if they want me to be like them! Now I pick on you so you will get to be more like Mr. Philip."
"That's the reason I don't mind so much. I tell you my brother Philip is some humdinger!
