"They're browning beautifully," he exclaimed hastily.
"You said that before. Ain't it gittin' time to work on 'em?"
"Remove your feet and I'll set the table."
"Can't you spread a paper for a tablecloth? I always git splinters in my elbows when I eat off rough lumber."
Wallie laughed good-humouredly as he obliged him.
"That's shore a great smell comin' from the oven! Let's eat, feller."
"You certainly are hungry, Pinkey. If I may judge by appearances, you are not going to be disappointed. You sit down while I put things on the table."
Pinkey needed no second invitation.
"I like spuds cooked with the clothes on," he observed as he skinned a potato.
"I trust everything is going to be to your liking," Wallie declared, cordially, as he drew the prairie-dogs from the oven and laid them on an agate-ware platter.