"Do you? Tell it," said the reader.
So Bobby began to tell them some of his adventures, upon which they all grew interested and fell asleep.
"Don't tell any more like that," said the little reader, when he awoke.
"What'th the matter weth it? Heap better thtory than that big book that you're a mumblin' over, Mr. Puddin'."
"We don't like interesting stories," said the sleepy reader. "They put us to sleep. This is the best book in the world. It's Rollin's Ancient History, and it hasn't got but a few interesting spots in the whole of it. Those we keep sewed up, so that we can't read them. The rest is all so nice and dull, that it keeps us awake all day."
Bobby stared, but said nothing.
"Can you sing?" said one of the plump little old women.
"Yeth, I can sing Dandy Jim."
"Let's have it. I do love singing; it soothes me and keeps me awake."
Thus entreated, little Bobby stood up and sang one verse of a negro song he had heard, which ran: