“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.  God’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 nobody 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-glass 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?”