“Huh!” the old man snorted in disgust. “It’s a pity she didn’t take one of dese here wooden teethpicks an’ beat yo’ brains out while she wus at it!”
Figger turned and started to go out.
“Hey, Figger!” Popsy squalled.
“Whut?” Figger asked.
“You stay aroun’ dis cabin so you kin wait on me!”
“Yes, suh,” Figger grinned.
“Ef you leave dis house ’thout axin’ my say-so, I’ll skin you alive!”
“I ain’t gwine leave you, Popsy,” Figger assured him. “Nobody cain’t git me away from dis cabin widout compellment!”
The mocking-bird in the top of the pecan tree started again its song of delirious music.
“Go out an’ tell dat brat to stop dat whistlin’ so I kin take me a nap!” Popsy commanded, as his weary head rested upon the back of the chair and he closed his age-dimmed eyes.