"You better git 'way f'om me an' don't tech 'em, like I tells
you," he reiterated. "Aunt Minerva say you ain't never had 'em
an' she say fer me to make you keep 'way f'om me 'cause you
ain't a ol' chile like what I is."
"You ain't but six," retorted angry Jimmy, "and I'll be six
next month; you all time trying to 'suade little boys to
think you're 'bout a million years old. What's the matter
with you, anyhow? You 'bout the funniest looking kid they
is."
Billy theatrically touched a distended cheek. "These here is
mumps," he said impressively; "an' when you got 'em you can make
grown folks do perzactly what you want 'em to. Aunt Minerva's
in the kitchen right now makin' me a 'lasses custard if I'll be
good an' stay right in the house an' don't come out here in the
yard an' don't give you the mumps. Course I can't tech that
custard now 'cause I done come out here an' it ain't honer'ble;
but she's makin' it jes' the same. You better git 'way f'om me
an' not tech 'em; you too little to have 'em.
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