“Air you the cussin'est boy on Viper?” Again there was a nod of cheerful acknowledgment.
“Jeems Henery, air you the bigges' liar on Viper?” James Henry, looking with adoring eyes at the Angel, nodded shameless shame for the third time, and the Angel turned triumphantly.
“Thar now!” Astounded, St. Hilda looked from one brother to the other.
“Well, not one word of this have I heard before.”
“Jeems Henery is a sly un—ain't you, Jeems Henery?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ain't nobody who can ketch up Jeems Henery 'ceptin' me.”
“Well, Willie, if this is more than I can handle, don't you think you'd better not go home but stay here and help me with James Henry?” The Angel did not even hesitate.
“I reckon I better,” he said, and he visibly swelled with importance. “I had to lam' Jeems Henery this mornin', an' I reckon I'll have to keep on lammin' him 'most every day.”
“Don't you lam' James Henry at all,” said St. Hilda decisively.