“Walletum dreffle heabby, Mass’ George. Don’t think better carry um inside?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mass’ George eat half, and Pomp eat half. Den we hab nuffum to carry.”
I naturally enough burst out laughing.
“Why, we’ve only just had a good breakfast, and couldn’t eat any more.”
“Oh yes, Pomp could, big lots.”
“And what are we to have to eat by and by, when we get hungry?”
“Mass’ George shoot ducks; Pomp make fire an’ roace um.”
“No, no, no,” I cried. “Here, pass me the wallet, and I’ll give you a rest.”
“And Pomp carry de gun,” he cried, eagerly.