“H. L.”
Tom saw it. He understood.
The signal of the pebble used to mean that they would have secrets and she would say, “H. L.” for Hog-Latin, the higgledy-piggledy, rapid way so many school boys and girls talk. She wanted him to tell her what he had told his chums, and in “Hog-Latin.”
“We-kitty will-ikky set-akk—set-totty fire-ikky to-pitty hut-ikky.”
“Yes-ippy I-bitty see-kitty.”
“Then-ippy run-itty quick-itty-fast-itty with-itty you-ikky off-itty.”
They exchanged the passages of mixed words and funny endings with such swiftness that Cliff and Nicky, a little surprised and half forgetting their old “stunt,” had difficulty in following it; surely the other two men, not versed in that kind of youthful foolishness, would not understand any better than the Indians.
And so a childish custom that older people thought silly was being turned to good account.
Without expression, shaking her head, Margery said more.
“No-kitty good-ibiddy,” she clipped out. “Get-ibbidy lost-ibbidy in-akkity junge-y-gongle-y bangle-y do!”