"All but the shouting," answered Stacy.
"You are well able to do that. You'd better practise up on those favorite exclamations of yours—-"
"What are they?"
"Y-e-o-w and W-o-w!"
"Who-o-o-p-e-e!" answered Chunky in a shrill, high-pitched voice.
Ned Rector clapped a hand over the fat boy's mouth with a resounding smack. Chunky was jerked backward, his head striking the chair with a bump that was audible all over the room.
"You stop that business. Do you forget where you are? That's all right out in the wilds, but not in civilized society," declared Ned.
"Whe—-where's the civilized society? Don't you do that to me again, or I'll——-"
"Chunky's all right. Let him alone, Ned. Mother doesn't care how much noise we make in here. In fact, she'd think something was wrong with us if we didn't make a big racket. Chunky, if you are so full of steam you might go out and finish the woodpile for me. I've got to cut that wood this afternoon."
"No, thank you. I'm willing to hunt for the colored man in the woodpile, but I'm a goat if I'll chop the wood. Why, I'd lose my reputation in Chillicothe if I were seen doing such a common thing as that."