“Say you ain't never a-goin' to tell nobody, cross yo' heart,” was the next command.
“I say I ain't never going to tell nobody, cross my heart. Get up, Billy, 'fore you make me mad, and ain't no telling what I'll do to you if I get mad.”
“Say you's a low-down Jezebel skunk.”
“I ain't going to say I'm nothing of the kind,” spiritedly replied the under-dog. “You all time wanting somebody to call theirselfs someping. You're a low-down Isabella skunk yourself.”
“You got to say it,” insisted the victor, renewing hostilities.
“I'll say I'm a Isabella 'cause Isabella discovered America and's in the Bible,” replied the tormented one; “Miss Cecilia 'splained it to me.”
Billy accepted his compromise and Jimmy's flattened stomach, relieved of its burden, puffed out to its usual roundness as that little boy rose to his feet, saying:
“Sam Lamb would 'a' died a-laughing, Billy, if he 'd seen you telephoning.”
“He 'd better never hear tell of it,” was the threatening rejoinder.