“‘I put it into dis end o’ you,’ ses Hahsie. ‘You’s de one to know what’s happen’ to it after dat.’
“Ou’ Sculpat he consider a bit. ‘Well, I did feel sometin’ ticklin’ half-way down my froat,’ ses he, ‘but I didn’t feel it no furder.’
“‘P’r’aps dat’s de way you’s made inside,’ ses Hahsie; ‘half-way down an’ den a drop.’
“Ou’ Sculpat he didn’t say nawtin’ to dat; he stick to business. ‘When’s I to have some mo’?’ ses he.
“‘When I wants more fis’,’ ses Hahsie, his big eyes fair a-shinin’ wid wonderin’ about dat honey still.
“‘An’ when’s dat?’ ses Sculpat.
“‘When I feels like I’d like some,’ ses Hahsie, an’ he don’t grin a bit.
“‘To-morro’?’ axes Sculpat.
“‘A’ right,’ ses Hahsie. ‘You have de fis’es ready an’ I’ll see about gettin’ some mo’ honey. So long, den,’—an’ Mr Hahsie he picks up de ten fis’es an’ de little one, an’ he offs.
“Ou’ Sculpat watch him go a minute. ‘Dat stuff is taste rippin’,’ ses he. Den he flop into de water agen, but he don’t eat any weeds.