"Jam it is," says Pinckney, and orders a couple of jars.
"Don't you think they ought to have something besides sweets?" says Miss Gerty.
"Blessed if I know," says Pinckney, and he puts it up to the kids if there wa'n't anything else they'd like.
"Yep!" says they eagerly. "Pickles."
That's what they had too, jam and pickles, with a little bread on the side. Then, while we was finishin' off the grilled bones, or whatever it was Pinckney had guessed at, they slides out of their chairs and organises a game of tag. I've heard of a lot of queer doin's bein' pulled off in that partic'lar caffy, but I'll bet this was the first game of cross tag ever let loose there. It was a lively one, for the tables was most all filled, and the tray jugglers was skatin' around thick. That only made it all the more interestin' for the kids. Divin' between the legs of garçons loaded down with silver and china dishes was the best sport they'd struck in a month, and they just whooped it up.
THE TWINS ORGANIZE A GAME OF TAG
I could see the head waiter, standin' on tiptoes, watchin' 'em and holdin' his breath. Pinckney was beginnin' to look worried too, but Gerty was settin' there, as calm and smilin' as if they was playin' in a vacant lot. It was easy to see she wa'n't one of the worryin' kind.
"I wonder if I shouldn't stop them?" says Pinckney.