“The Singing? What’s the Singing?” asked Azalea, as she and Hi ran toward the house with the butter and the milk in their hands.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a singing is,” said pa. Hi and Azalea shook their heads.
“Well, then,” said pa, “nobody is to tell you, and before long you’ll see for yourselves. Hustle now, we ought to have been on the road by this time. It slipped my mind this was the date, till the Groggings went by and reminded me.”
“My goodness,” sighed ma, “I’m glad our best dresses are fresh ironed, Azalea. Here, everybody pay strict attention to eating! We’ve got to get off if we’re to take any part in the doings!”
CHAPTER VII
THE SINGING
“Say,” said Hi as he and Jim washed their faces and gave an extra fine brushing to their hair, “ain’t I the lucky one though, going off like this with you-all? I don’t see how it comes your pa and ma are so good to me and Zalie.”
“Comes natural to them,” growled Jim, much embarrassed by this praise of the persons he loved best. “They’re even good to me.”
“Get out!” cried Hi, sprinkling some water on Jim’s clean waist.
“Here you, if you think so much of my ma, what are you spoiling all her work for?” shouted Jim. “You need a little learning, that’s what you need!”
The next moment the two boys had gripped and were rolling on the floor together. Mrs. McBirney heard the rumpus and came running, but her gentle voice could barely make itself heard as the two boys threshed around on the floor, and it took Thomas McBirney’s strong hand and firm voice to bring them to their feet again, half laughing and half angry, and red as turkey cocks.