Miss Minerva and William Green Hill Part 19

"I certainly do think he might have given them to us," declared Lina, "and I'm going to tell him so, too. As much money as father has paid him for doctor's bills and as much old, mean medicine as I have taken just to 'commodate him; then he gives babies to everybody but us."

"I'm awful glad he never give 'em to my mama," said Jimmy, "'cause I never could had no more fun; they'd be stuck right under my nose all time, and all time put their mouth in everything you want to do, and all time meddling. You can't fool me 'bout twinses. But I wish I could see 'em! They so weakly they got to be hatched in a nincubator."

"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 j.a.panee, 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 G.o.d 'd sho' be busy a-makin' so many babies," remarked Billy.

"Why, G.o.d 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 n.i.g.g.e.rs do at the chair factory, and all G.o.d got to do is jus' glue 'em together, and stick in their souls. G.o.d's got 'bout the easiest job they is."

"I thought angels jes' clam' the golden stair and play they harps," said Billy.

"Ain't we going to look sweet at Miss Cecilia's wedding," said Frances, after a short silence.

"I'll betcher I'll be the cutest kid in that church," boasted Jimmy conceitedly. "You coming, ain't you, Billy?"

"I gotter go," answered that jilted swain, gloomily, "Aunt Minerva ain't got n.o.body to leave me with at home. I jes' wish she'd git married."

"Why wouldn't you be a page, Billy?" asked Lina.

"'Cause I didn't hafto," was the snappish reply.

"I bet my mama give her the finest present they is," bragged the smaller boy; "I reckon it cost 'bout a million dollars."

"Mother gave her a handsome cut-gla.s.s vase," said Lina.

"It looks like Doctor Sanford would've give Miss Cecilia those twinses for a wedding present," said Frances.

"Who is that little boy sitting on your porch, Jimmy?" asked Lina, noticing for the first time a lonely-looking child.

"That's Leon Tipton, Aunt Ella's little boy. He just come out from Memphis to spend the day with me and I'll be awful glad when he goes home; he's 'bout the stuck-up-est kid they is, and skeery? He's 'bout the 'fraidest young un ever you see. And look at him now? Wears long curls like a girl and don't want to never get his clean clo'es dirty."

"I think he's a beautiful little boy," championed Lina. "Call him over here, Jimmy."

"Naw, I don't want to. You all'll like him a heap better over there; he's one o' these-here kids what the furder you get 'way from 'em, the better you like 'em."

"He sho' do look lonesome," said Billy; "'vite him over, Jimmy."

"Leon!" screamed his cousin, "you can come over here if you wantta."

The lonesome-looking little boy promptly accepted the invitation, and came primly through the two gates. He walked proudly to the swing and stood, cap in hand, waiting for an introduction.

"Why didn't you clam' the fence, 'stead of coming th'oo the gates?"

growled Jimmy. "You 'bout the prissiest boy they is. Well, why don't you set down?"

"Introduce me, please," said the elegant little city boy.

"Interduce your grandma's p.u.s.s.y cats," mocked Jimmy. "Set down, I tell you."

Frances and Lina made room for him between them and soon gave him their undivided attention, to the intense envy and disgust of the other two little boys.

"I am Lina Hamilton," said the little girl on his right.

"And I'm Frances Black, and Jimmy ought to be 'shamed to treat you like he does."

"I knows a turrible skeery tale," remarked a malicious Billy, looking at Lina and Frances. "If y' all wa'n't girls I 'd tell it to you."

"We aren't any more scared 'n you, William Hill," cried Frances, her interest at once aroused; "I already know 'bout 'raw meat and b.l.o.o.d.y bones' and nothing's scarier 'n that."

"And I know 'Fe, Fi, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I'll ground his bones to make me bread,"' said Lina.

"This-here tale," continued Billy, glueing his big eyes to those of the little stranger, "is one Tabernicle learnt fer a speech at school. It's all 'bout a 'oman what was buriet in a graveyard with a diamant ring on her finger, an' a robber come in the night--"

The child's tones were guttural, thrilling, and hair-raising as he glared into the eyes of the effeminate Leon, "an' a robber come in the night an' try to cut it off, an' ha'nts was groanin' an' the win' moan 'oo-oo' an--"

Leon could stand it no longer.

"I am going right back," he cried rising with round, frightened eyes, "I am not going to sit here and listen to you, scaring little girls to death. You are a bad boy to scare Lina and Frances and I am not going to a.s.sociate with you;" and this champion of the fair s.e.x stalked with dignity across the yard to the gate.

"I'm no more scared 'n nothing," and indignant Frances hurled at his back, "you're just scared yourself."

Jimmy giggled happily. "What'd I tell you all," he cried, gleefully.

"Lina and Frances got to all time set little 'fraid cats 'tween 'em," he snorted. "It's just like I tell you, he's the sissyest boy they is; and he don't care who kiss him neither; he'll let any woman kiss him what wants to. Can't no woman at all 'cepting my mama and Miss Cecilia kiss me. But Leon is 'bout the kissingest kid they is; why, he'd just as soon's not let Frances and Lina kiss him; he ain't got no better sense.

'Course I gotta let Miss Cecilia kiss me 'cause she's 'bout the plumpest Sunday-School teacher they is and the Bible say 'If your Sunday-School teacher kiss you on one cheek turn the other cheek and let her kiss you on that, too,' and I all time bound to do what the Bible say. You 'd better call him back, Frances, and kiss him, you and Lina 're so stuck on him."

"I wouldn't kiss him to save his life," declared Frances; "he's got the spindliest legs I ever saw."

CHAPTER XX

RISING IN THE WORLD

The painter had just finished putting a bright green coat of paint upon the low, flat roof of Miss Minerva's long back-porch. And he left his ladder leaning against the house while he went inside to confer with her in regard to some other work.