“Yessuh, I tole him to,” said Herman, “an' he chop 'er off, an' ey ain't airy oth' one evuh grown on wheres de ole one use to grow. Nosuh!”
“But what'd you tell him to do it for?”
“Nothin'. I 'es' said it 'at way—an' he jes' chop er off!”
Both brothers looked pleased and proud. Penrod's profound interest was flatteringly visible, a tribute to their unusualness.
“Hem bow goy,” suggested Verman eagerly.
“Aw ri',” said Herman. “Ow sistuh Queenie, she a growed-up woman; she got a goituh.”
“Got a what?”
“Goituh. Swellin' on her neck—grea' big swellin'. She heppin' mammy move in now. You look in de front-room winduh wheres she sweepin'; you kin see it on her.”
Penrod looked in the window and was rewarded by a fine view of Queenie's goitre. He had never before seen one, and only the lure of further conversation on the part of Verman brought him from the window.
“Verman say tell you 'bout pappy,” explained Herman. “Mammy an' Queenie move in town an' go git de house all fix up befo' pappy git out.”