"No you wouldn't. If I was a dyin' it would tickle you mighty nigh to death, you—"
In came Laz Spencer, the boy with the meal-bag on his arm.
"Glad to see you," Starbuck exclaimed, catching him by the hand; and Laz, astonished at the warmth of the welcome, stood mute, as if expecting for something to happen. "You got here jest in time, Laz."
"Howdy, Laz," Margaret greeted him, smoothing her countenance.
"Wall," said he, "ain't a standin' on my head," and speaking to Jasper he added: "Come to fetch yo' meal-bag home."
"About when did you borry it, Laz," Jasper inquired, taking the bag and throwing it upon the table.
"Well, how did you happen to fetch it back so soon?"
"Oh, jest got to thinkin' about it last month."
"Well, no tellin' what's goin' to happen when a feller gits to thinkin'. What's the matter with yo' coat-tail?"