“What! broke his head?”
“Oh, no, mum, only jest the turmut. An’ Bob went after him, and down went postie. Ye would have larfed, mum.”
“I’m afraid you’re a bad boy sometimes.”
“Yes, I feels all over bad—sometimes.”
“I like bad boys best,” said Eedie boldly, “they’re such fun.”
“Babs,” said Ransey, “you’ll hang me dead if you hold so tight.”
“Well, dears, I’m going to come and see you to-morrow, perhaps, or next day, and bring Babs a pretty toy.”
“Babs,” said the child defiantly, “has dot a dolly-bone, all dlessed and boo’ful.” This was simply a ham-bone, on the ball of which Ransey had scratched eyes and a mouth and a nose, and dressed it in green moss and rags. And Babs thought nothing could beat that.
As she rode off triumphantly on Ransey’s back, Babs looked back, held one bare arm on high, and shouted, “Hullay!”