"Nuh, nuh! don't you do that," said the Boy with startling suddenness. "If you make that noise, I'll have to make a worse one. If you cry, Kaviak, I'll have to sing. Hmt, hmt! don't you do it." And as Kaviak, in spite of instructions, began to bawl, the Boy began to do a plantation jig, crooning monotonously:
"'Grashoppah sett'n on de swee' p'tater vine,
Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'tater vine;
Grasshoppah—'"
He stopped as suddenly as he'd begun. "Now, will you be good?"
Kaviak drew a breath with a catch in it, looked round, and began as firmly as ever:
"Weh!—eh!—eh!"
"Sh—sh!" The Boy clapped his hands, and lugubriously intoned:
"'Dey's de badger and de bah,
En de funny lil hah,
En de active lil flea,
En de lil armadillah
Dat sleeps widouter pillah,
An dey all gottah mate but me—ee—ee!'
"Farva!" Kaviak gasped.
"Say, do a nigger breakdown," solicited Potts.
"Ain't room; besides, I can't do it with blisters."