making a barricade of closed lips and teeth to the multitude of apparently wingless mosquitoes thriving in its green tepidity, she moistened her mouth and throat.
"Oh, I say, Billy!" called Mag as he drove off. Her tones suggested her having forgotten an important matter, and he turned eagerly. "W'en's it goin' ter rain?" she shrieked, convulsed with merriment.
"Go an' crawl inter a 'oller log!" he shouted angrily.
"No, but truly, Billy." Billy turned again. "Give my love to yaller Lizer; thet slues yer!"
They had not gone far before he looked round again. "Gord!" he cried excitedly. "Look at Mag goin' through 'er ole woman!"
Mag had the old woman's head between her knees, dentist—fashion, and seemed to concentrate upon her victim's mouth, whose feeble impotence was soon demonstrated by the operator releasing her, and triumphantly raising her hand.
What the finger and thumb held the woman knew and the other guessed.
"By Gord. Eh! thet's prime; ain't it? No flies on Mag; not a fly!" he said, admiringly.
"See me an' 'er?" he asked, as he drove on.
