Say, 'Huldie, my poor little arms is a-killin' me! Please
let me and Shoogie quit!' She'll pay you some mind. Then we can
go play!"
"But, Shoogie-"
"Say hit! You wants to play, don't you?" Shoogie scooted back
to her churn.
"Huldie?" I said.
"What, baby?"
"My poor little arms is a-killin' me. Shoogie said- I mean,
let Shoogie- I mean, please let me- My poor little arms is-"
Huldie and Doanie started laughing so I couldn't finish what
Shoogie wanted me to say.
"Law, y'all is a pair o' sly ones! Shoogie, you the one
what's puttin' this baby up to tellin' such as this. Her poor
little arms! Why, you is got the child talkin' just like you
does! Tell you what: me and Doanie'll let you both rest them poor
little wore-out arms right now! Y'all trot down yonder to the
gully at the syrup mill and fetch us two good-sized rocks so's we
can hold down the kraut in the brine water. Don't just pick up
the first ones you sees. Find some that is nice and flat and
smooth."
Shoogie grabbed my hand. "Come on, Bandershanks, let's go.
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