"I dunno nuthin' 'bout Ned! Them? just plain chocolate cake."
"Well—you swore to lots about Ned, considering you don't 'know nothing' about him. I wonder he doesn't thrash you!"
"He dassent!" cries Pete tumultuously.
Whereupon the cub holds up his chin and looks critically over the counter at Pete, who sidles back and forth under this menacing gaze, and wonders if the cub can jump over the counter, and if anybody—grandpa, even "mommer"—is within call!
"Why don't you thrash Ned, then! They tell me he called you a liar in open court! And he is a small boy."
Pete begins to nod his head menacingly. "He'll git somethin' worse'n the lie when his trial comes off!"
"Where did he ever know the men who bailed him, anyhow?"
"In the theayter, mebbe,—they all burnt it together!" retorts Pete hardily.
"Look-a-here! you seem to know a deal, my hearty! More than is healthy!" declares the cub, with the affectation of a long, speculative look, which wilts Pete.
"Oh, take your cake an' go along!" exclaims Pete. "I ain't goin' to talk no mo'!"