"Get 'way; you
can't have em."
Ikey had promptly stopped at the gate.
"What'll you take, Billy, to lemme get 'em?" he asked, his
commercial spirit at once aroused.
"What'll you gimme?" asked he of the salable commodity,
with an eye to a bargain.
Ikey pulled out a piece of twine and a blue glass bead from
his pocket and offered them to the child with the mumps.
These received a contemptuous rejection.
"You can do perzactly like you please when you got the mumps,"
insinuated Jimmy, who had seemingly allied himself with Billy
as a partner in business; "grown folks bound to do what little
boys want 'em to when you got the mumps."
Ikey increased his bid by the stub of a lead pencil, but it was
not until he had parted with his most cherished pocket
possessions that he was at last allowed to place a gentle finger
on the protuberant cheek.
Two little girls with their baby-buggies were seen approaching.
"G' 'way from here, Frances, you and Lina," howled Jimmy.
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