“I'm coming for you to go riding in my little pony and cart,” said a giggling Jimmy.
“All right, I's going to ask Aunt Minerva to lemme go. Can't we take Jimmy too?”
This was too much for the little boy. He had held himself in as long as possible. He burst into a peal of laughter so merry and so loud that Billy, turning, quickly, almost fell out of the chair.
“What you doin', a-listening to me talk to Marie Yarbrough th'oo the telephone?” he questioned angrily.
“Marie your pig's foot,” was the inelegant response. “That was just me a-talking to you all the time. You all time think you talking to little girls and all time 'tain't nobody but me.”
A light dawned upon the innocent one. He promptly hung up the receiver and got down out of the chair. Before Jimmy was fully aware of his intention, Billy had thrown him to the floor and was giving him a good pommeling.
“Say you got 'nough?” he growled from ibis position astride of the other boy.
“I got 'nough, Billy,” repeated Jimmy.
“Say you sorry you done it.”
“I say I sorry I done it,” abjectly repeated the younger child. “Get up, Billy, 'fore you bust my stommick open.”