“Stay right in the yard till I come back. Sit in the swing and don't go outside the front yard. I shan't be gone long,” said Miss Minerva.
His aunt had hardly left the gate before Billy caught sight of a round, fat little face peering at him through the palings which separated Miss Minerva's yard from that of her next-door neighbor.
“Hello!” shouted Billy. “Is you the bad little boy what can't play with me?”
“What you doing in Miss Minerva's yard?” came the answering interrogation across the fence.
“I's come to live with her,” replied Billy. “My mama an' papa is dead. What's yo' name?”
“I'm Jimmy Garner. How old are you? I'm most six, I am.”
“Shucks, I's already six, a-going on seven. Come on, le's swing.”
“Can't,” said the new acquaintance, “I've runned off once to-day, and got licked for it.”
“I ain't never got no whippin' sence me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln 's born,” boasted Billy.
“Ain't you?” asked Jimmy. “I 'spec' I been whipped more 'n a million times, my mama is so pertic'lar with me. She's 'bout the pertic'larest woman ever was; she don't 'low me to leave the yard 'thout I get a whipping. I believe I will come over to see you 'bout half a minute.”