"
"What's that?" questioned Frances.
"That's a someping what you hatches chickens and babies in
when they's delicate, and ain't got 'nough breath and ain't
got they eyes open and ain't got no feathers on," explained
Jimmy.
"Reckon we can see 'em?" she asked.
"See nothing!" sniffed the little boy. "Ever sence Billy let
Mr. Algernon Jones whack Miss Minerva's beau we can't do
nothing at all 'thout grown folks 'r' stuck right under your
nose. I'm jes' cramped to death."
"When I'm a mama," mused Frances, "I hope Doctor Sanford'll bring
me three little twinses, and two Maltese kittens, and a little
Japanee, and a monkey, and a parrit."
"When I'm a papa," said Jimmy, "I don' want no babies at all, all
they's good for is jus' to set 'round and yell."
"Look like God 'd sho' be busy a-makin' so many babies,"
remarked Billy.
"Why, God don' have none 'a the trouble," explained Jimmy. "He's
just got Him a baby factory in Heaven like the chair factory and
the canning factory down by the railroad, and angels jus' all
time make they arms and legs, like niggers do at the chair
factory, and all God got to do is jus' glue 'em together, and
stick in their souls.
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