Jube. Yas, indeed, honey! jes' waitin' fer yer to touch it off.
Moselle. Ha, ha, ha! I'm a match for it. Ain't I, Win?
Win-Kye. You sclatchee match, blow high-sky, fitt!
Moselle (in front of Win-Kye). Oh, you queer bit of broken China! I'd like to set you on a shelf at school, and set your head a-going to please the boys. (Points forefingers up, and nods head à la Chinese.)
Win-Kye (imitating her). No settee up fol the boys.
Moselle. Ha, ha, ha! but you must go. Ah, daddy! I'm as full of mischief as I was the day I threw the powder-flask into your frying-pan. (All laugh.)
Jube. Dat was rough on de ole man.
Moselle. Jube remembers it; for, while he was helping daddy put a new roof on and patch up the rent, I hid his shovel and pick; and he couldn't find it for a week. (All but Jube laugh.)
Win-Kye (points to Jube). That blakee him all uppee.
Moselle. So look out for yourselves, old folks, young folks: I give you fair warning. Mind that pigtail, Win: I want it for my back hair.