“Wha' ma' oo? Mammy hay oo hip ap hoe-woob.”
“Mammy tell ME git 'at stove-wood?” Herman interpreted resentfully. “How'm I go' git 'at stove-wood when my britches down bottom 'at cistern, I like you answer ME please? You shet 'at do' behime you!”
Verman complied, and again pointing to his brother's legs, requested to be enlightened.
“Sin' I tole you once they down bottom 'at cistern,” Herman shouted, much exasperated. “You wan' know how come so, you ast Sam Williams. He say thishere cat tuck an' th'owed 'em down there!”
Sam, who was busy rocking the cage, remained cheerfully absorbed in that occupation.
“Come look at our good ole panther, Verman,” he called. “I'll get this circus-cage rockin' right good, an' then—”
“Wait a minute,” said Penrod; “I got sumpthing I got to think about. Quit rockin' it! I guess I got a right to think about sumpthing without havin' to go deaf, haven't I?”
Having obtained the quiet so plaintively requested, he knit his brow and gazed intently upon Verman, then upon Herman, then upon Gipsy. Evidently his idea was fermenting. He broke the silence with a shout.
“I know, Sam! I know what we'll do NOW! I just thought of it, and it's goin' to be sumpthing I bet there aren't any other boys in this town could do, because where would they get any good ole panther like we got, and Herman and Verman? And they'd haf to have a dog, too—and we got our good ole Dukie, I guess. I bet we have the greatest ole time this afternoon we ever had in our lives!”
His enthusiasm roused the warm interest of Sam—and Verman, though Herman, remaining cold and suspicious, asked for details.