“Cupid,” he says, and he was whiter’n chalk-rock, “is the baby worse? And Rose––”
I pulled him up on to the porch. “Now’s you’ chanst, Billy,” I answers. “Do you’ darnedest!”
Rose opened the door, and her face was as white as hisn. “Aw, Billy!” was all she says.
Then up come that ole fool paw of hern, totin’ the kid. “What’s this?” he ast, mad as a hornet. “And where’s Doc Simpson?”
It was me that spoke. “Doc Simpson’s had a turrible accident,” I answers. “His gasoline plug got to misbehavin’ down the road a piece, and plumb tore her insides out. He got awful shook up, and couldn’t come no further, so–knowin’ the baby was so sick–I went fer Bill.”
“Bill!” says the ole man, disgusted. “Thun-deration!”
But Billy had his tools out a’ready and was a-reachin’ fer the kid. Sewell let him have her–cussin’ like a mule-skinner.
“That’s right,” he says to Rose; “that’s right,–let him massacree her!”
Rose didn’t take no notice. “Aw, Billy!” she kept sayin’, and “Aw, baby!”
Billy got to doin’ things. He picked somethin’ shiny outen his kit and slipped it into a pocket. Next, he lay the kid lookin’ up and put his finger into her mouth.