“That isn’t what I mean,” broke in Irv, with smiles rippling all over him, and running down even to his legs. “I mean, did anybody ever notice that you were,—oh, well, never mind that; but tell me, would you like a good big slice of cold corned beef before you go to sleep?”
The negro answered in words. But his more emphatic answer was not one of words. He threw his arms around Irv in a giant’s embrace that almost crushed the youth’s bones.
“There, that will do,” said Irv. “You have an engagement as a cotton compress or something of that sort, when you’re at home, I suppose. But now, if I let you have a good big slice of cold corned beef to-night, will you eat it just as I tell you, take a bite when I tell you and at no other time, and stop whenever I tell you? Will you promise?”
“Shuah, sar, shuah,” eagerly responded the man.
“But ‘sure’ isn’t enough,” replied Irv, half in amusement and half in seriousness, for he felt that his experiment was very risky, and he wanted to be able to regulate it, and stop it at any point. “Sure isn’t enough. Will you promise me on the isosceles triangle?”
“Yes, boss.”
“On the grand panjandrum?”
“For shuah.”
“And even on the parallelopipedon itself?”
“Shuah, boss. I dunno what dem names mean, but for shuah I’ll do jes’ what you tells me to if you’ll lem’ me have de meat.”