“Really, Swot,” Constance was driven to threaten one morning, when he had broken in on the narrative for the seventh time with questions which proved that he was giving no heed to the book, “unless you lie quieter, and don’t interrupt so often, I shall not go on reading.”
“Dat goes,” acceded the little fellow; yet before she had so much as finished a page he asked, “Say, did youse ever play craps?”
“No,” she answered, with a touch of severity.
“It’s a jim dandy goime, Ise tells youse. Like me to learn youse?”
“No,” replied the girl, as she closed the book.
“Goils never oin’t no good,” remarked Swot, discontentedly.
Really irritated, Miss Durant rose and adjusted her boa. “Swot,” she said, “you are the most ungrateful boy I ever knew, and I’m not merely not going to read any more to-day, but I have a good mind not to come to-morrow, just to punish you.”
“Ah, chase youseself!” was the response. “Youse can’t pass dat gold brick on me, well, I guess!”
“What are you talking about?” indignantly asked Constance.
“Tink Ise oin’t onter youse curves? Tink Ise don’t hear wot de nurse loidies says? Gee! Ise know w’y youse so fond of comin’ here.”