"Belliun?" echoed Willie as he thrust his fingers into his mouth and out again with a pop that made the children titter. "Neber heerd ob nuffin else epseps de belliun."
"What is a traitor, dear boy?"
"Tater?" "What sort er tater, sweet tator ur Orish tater?" enquired Willie.
"Perhaps I may teach the little heathen to understand," said the school marm, suggestively. "Willie," she asked "What do you call that gentleman who lives in that fine house over the way?"
"Calls him!" again repeated Willie, "I calls him po white trash; what dos yer call him?"
"Oh dear, dear, dear," screamed the teacher utterly bewildered. One more time she exclaimed "James, come here," and another little negro as black as tar with one eye closed by a great knot upon it came forward. "What is the matter, James, with your face?"
"Umph!" grunted James, "Specks if yer seed whar I been you'd know 'dout axin. Dat ar boy has been scrougin me lak I wus a trabball."
"James, if you are a bad boy do you know where you will go when you die?" asked the lady.
"Umph," exclaimed James, "I haint eben a studdin erbout which erway I'm a gwine arter I die. I'm studdin which erway I'm ergwine arter I git outen dat ar do. See dat ar boy a shaking he hed?" "He sez how dat ef I cum by his mudders house agwine to my mudders house he's agwine to scrouge me sum mo, und I'm skeert to go tuther way."
"One other question" (half aside), "James, if you live to be a man what are you going to do for a living?"