"Laws, Miss Dimple, you didn't reckon that was all," said Bubbles, loftily. "I laid out to tell more, soon ez my tongue got rested."
"Rest it then, and go on," said Dimple, settling back against a chair, with her hands behind her head.
"Well," said Bubbles, going on with her story, "the wass he flown off, and the bluebird he flown off, and after a while the bluebird he met a squirl. 'Howdy?' says he. 'Howdy,' says the squirl. 'How's all to yo' house?'
"'Tollable, thank you,' says the bluebird. 'Ef yuh see a wass come along—' Laws, Miss Dimple, I can't get along without'n hit's being a bummely," said she, stopping short.
"Well, have it a bummely then," said Dimple. "You don't care, do you, Florence?"
"No," said Florence, "have it a bummely if you want to, Bubbles."
"'Well,' says the bluebird, 'ef you see a bummelybee, don't you let nobody take his honey from him, fur he's a pertickeler fren' of mine.' He was sorter shamed to let on to the squirl how nigh chawmed he was.
"'I promise, cross my heart,' says the squirl, and Mr. Bluebird flown off.
"Aftern awhile, up flown Mr. Bummely, and smack behind him comes a little boy layin' out to git his honey.
"Mr. Bummely he flown along and went to hide hissef in a big flower. That's jess what the boy wanted. 'Now I've got yuh,' says he, but he was too forward, fur the squirl clim' down the tree and popped onto the boy's haid jess ez he was gwine to take off his hat to ketch Mr. Bummely, and Mr. Bummely he flown off, and Mr. Squirl he laugh, and Mr. Boy he got mad, and made tracks fur home, and that's all."