"Don't touch!"
"M-m-m-m—lamb stew!"
"I shopped all morning to get okra to go in it for your father."
"M-m-m-m-m!"
She tiptoed up to kiss him again, this time at the back of the neck, carefully averting her floury hands.
"Mamma's boy! I made you three pen-wipers to-day out of the old red table-cover."
"Aw, fellers don't use pen-wipers!"
He set up a jiggling, his great feet coming down with a clatter.
"Stop!"
"Can't I jig?"