“Did dat little yeller debbil hab anything to do wid dis?” Tella asked, pointing at Skeeter’s face.
“Of co’se he did!” Mrs. Diddle exclaimed. “He done it all!”
Tella Tandy promptly wrenched off a piece of the shattered box about two feet long and three inches wide, and gave Skeeter a resounding slap across the jaw.
Skeeter reeled backward, stumbled down the steps, and fled out into the street.
Figger watched the people on the stage for a minute, then hastened down the street after Skeeter. He found his friend sitting on a curb-stone nursing a bloody face.
“Dey done me up, Figger,” Skeeter mourned. “I never seed de beat of show-folks fer fust-rate brains. Even dat Spit dawg is smarter dan me!”
“Whut is us gwine do nex’, Skeeter?” Bush asked sympathetically.
“I’s gwine to de cote-house an’ hab dat Tella Tandy arrested fer assault an’ battery!” Skeeter exclaimed revengefully.
Figger sighed pitifully.
“’Twon’t do you no good, Skeeter,” Figger informed him. “You can’t git her fer nothin’ but assault.”