Buster John looked at Sweetest Susan, and Sweetest Susan looked at Buster John. They were too much astonished to say anything.
“Even so, Grandson of Abdallah,” said Aaron, “what says the sun on the wall above your trough? Does it stand at the dinner hour? Why grumble, then, about corn on the cob that I have saved for the grunter?”
“What is the Grunting Pig to me, Son of Ben Ali? Or the sun on the wall? The dinner hour of those who are hungry comes best when it comes quickest. I have hurt my teeth on your nubbins. Take them away.”
Saying this, Timoleon snorted contemptuously. Then suddenly he gave a loud snort of surprise and anger. His quick and restless eye had caught sight of Sweetest Susan’s dress through a crack in the door.
“Son of Ben Ali,” he said, “what is this? You are not alone.”
“No, Grandson of Abdallah, I have brought three of my friends,” replied Aaron.
“Who are they, Son of Ben Ali?”
“Two grandchildren of the White-haired Master and their servant.”
“Why have they come?”