“Look, Jimmy,” he yelled, “here's a baseball mask I found in the closet.”
Jimmy, forgetful of the fact that he was to be paid for staying at home, immediately rolled over the fence and ran eagerly toward his friend. They examined the article in question with great care.
“It looks perzactly like a mask,” announced Jimmy after a thorough inspection, “and yet it don't.” He tried it on. “It don't seem to fit your face right,” he said.
Sarah Jane was bearing down upon them. “Come back home dis minute, Jimmy!” she shrieked, “want to ketch some mo' contagwous 'seases, don't yuh? What dat y' all got now?” As she drew nearer a smile of recognition and appreciation overspread her big good-natured face. Then she burst into a loud, derisive laugh. “What y' all gwine to do wid Miss Minerva's old bustle?” she enquired. “Y' all sho' am de contaritest chillens in dis here copperation.”
“Bustle?” echoed Billy, “What's a bustle?”
“Dat-ar's a bustle—dat's what's a bustle. Ladies useto wear 'em 'cause dey so stylish to make they dresses stick out in the back. Come on home, Jimmy, 'fore yuh ketch de yaller jandis er de epizootics; yo' ma tol' yuh to stay right at home.”
“Well, I'm coming, ain't I?” scowled the little boy. “Mama needn't to know nothing 'thout you tell.”
“Would you take yo' mama's present now, Jimmy?” asked Billy; “you ain't earnt it.”
“Wouldn't you?” asked Jimmy, doubtfully.
“Naw, I would n't, not 'thout I tol' her.”