There was a loud houp-la! and Robert had joined them. “Say, Mr. Dolloway! Don’t you s’pose my chickens ’ill be out to-day?”
“Humph! I don’t s’pose anything of the sort. But I am so everlasting tired of hearing about them that I fetched you over a brood already hatched out. What do ye say to that?”
“Gol—I mean—hurra! Did you? Honest Injun?”
“I ain’t give to makin’ no statements I don’t mean.”
“Where are they?”
“Where’s the place for chickens, anyway?”
Off bounded the delighted lad, but half-way to the poultry-house turned and ran back again. “Will you come with me, Mr. Dolloway?”
“H’m-m! Well, I guess I’ll get you taught some kind of manners if I keep on, I really do. In course I’ll come, an’ show you how to tend ’em. But I’ll tell you, first off, I hain’t goin’ to have any tomfoolery with ’em.”
“I—I dunno what you mean!”
“You don’t, hey?”