“Now, don’t begin that,” said Pauline, “you’ll make him cough again,—let him alone, Lynn.”
“Well, he mustn’t say he’ll push me off,” said Lynn. “I’m only trying to teach him to talk prop’ly. This morning he asked Larkin to come and look at his lee lowing in the lound. And I had to explain that he meant ‘tree growing in the ground.’”
Max was red with anger.
“I didn’t say that,” he shouted, “I said plain’s anything lee lowing in the lound.”
He sent each of the difficult words from his mouth with a snap, as if he were discharging them from a pistol that jammed.
But Lynn jeered again.
He could not jerk her from the gate, though he tried hard; eight years old can effect a much firmer lodgment than four years. He sheltered himself behind his weakness.
“You’ll make me cough in a minute,” he said, and began to draw in his breath.
“You’ll make me cough,” said Lynn.
“I cough worser than you,” insisted Max.