"I got 'nough, Billy," repeated Jimmy.
"Say you sorry you done it."
"I say I sorry I done it," abjectly repeated the younger child.
"Get up, Billy, 'fore you bust my stommick open."
"Say you ain't never a-goin' to tell nobody, cross yo' heart,"
was the next command.
"I say I ain't never going to tell nobody, cross my heart. Get
up, Billy, 'fore you make me mad, and ain't no telling what
I'll do to you if I get mad."
"Say you's a low-down Jezebel skunk."
"I ain't going to say I'm nothing of the kind," spiritedly
replied the under-dog. "You all time wanting somebody to call
theirselfs someping. You're a low-down Isabella skunk yourself."
"You got to say it," insisted the victor, renewing hostilities.
"I'll say I'm a Isabella 'cause Isabella discovered America
and's in the Bible," replied the tormented one; "Miss Cecilia
'splained it to me."
Billy accepted his compromise and Jimmy's flattened stomach,
relieved of its burden, puffed out to its usual roundness as that
little boy rose to his feet, saying:
"Sam Lamb would 'a' died a-laughing, Billy, if he 'd seen you
telephoning.
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