“come on over,” invited jimmy.

“all right; i believe i will,” responded billy, running to the fence. his aunt's peremptory voice arrested his footsteps.

“william, come here!” she called from the porch.

he reluctantly retraced his steps.

“i am going back to the kitchen to bake a cake and i want you to promise me not to leave the yard.”

“lemme jes' go over to jimmy's a little while,” he begged.

“no; you and jimmy can not be trusted together; you are sure to get into mischief, and his mother and i have decided to keep the fence between you for a while. now, promise me that you will stay right in my yard.”

billy sullenly gave her the promise and she went back to her baking.

“that's always the way now,” he said, meeting his little neighbor at the fence, “ever sence aunt minerva got onto this-here promisin' business, i don' have no freedom 't all. it's 'william, promise me this,' an' it's 'william, don't ferget yo' promise now,' tell i's jes' plumb sick 'n tired of it. she know i ain't goin' back on my word an' she jest nachelly gits the 'vantage of me; she 'bout the hardest 'oman to manage i ever seen sence i's born.”

“i can nearly all time make my mama do anything 'most if i jus' keep on trying and keep on a-begging,” bragged the other boy; “i just say 'may i, mama?' and she'll all time say, 'no, go 'way from me and lemme 'lone,' and i just keep on, 'may i, mama? may i, mama? may i, mama? 'and toreckly she'll say, 'yes, go on and lemme read in peace.'”

“aunt minerva won't give in much,” said billy. “when she say 'no, william,' 'tain't no use 'tall to beg her; you jest wastin' yo' breath. when she put her foot down it got to go just like she say; she sho' do like to have her own way better 'n any 'oman i ever see.”

“she 'bout the mannishest woman they is,” agreed jimmy. “she got you under her thumb, billy. i don' see what womans 're made fo' if you can't beg 'em into things. i wouldn't let no old spunky miss minerva get the best of me that 'way. come on, anyhow.”

“naw, i can't come,” was the gloomy reply; “if she'd jest tol' me not to, i coulder went but she made me promise, an' i ain't never goin' back on my word. you come over to see me.”

“i can't,” came the answer across the fence; “i'm earning me a baseball mask. i done already earnt me a mitt. my mama don't never make me promise her nothing, she just pays me to be good. that's huccome i'm 'bout to get 'ligion and go to the mourner's bench. she's gone up town now and if i don't go outside the yard while she's gone, she's going to gimme a baseball mask. you got a ball what you bringed from the plantation, and i'll have a bat and mitt and mask and we can play ball some. come on over just a little while; you ain't earning you nothing like what i'm doing.”

“naw; i promis' her not to an' i ain't ever goin' to break my promise.”

“well, then, mr. promiser,” said jimmy, “go get your ball and we'll th'ow 'cross the fence. i can't find mine.”

billy kept his few toys and playthings in a closet, which was full of old plunder. as he reached for his ball something fell at his feet from a shelf above. he picked it up, and ran excitedly into the yard.

“look, jimmy,” he yelled, “here's a baseball mask i found in the closet.”

jimmy, forgetful of the fact that he was to be paid for staying at home, immediately rolled over the fence and ran eagerly toward his friend. they examined the article in question with great care.

“it looks perzactly like a mask,” announced jimmy after a thorough inspection, “and yet it don't.” he tried it on. “it don't seem to fit your face right,” he said.

sarah jane was bearing down upon them. “come back home dis minute, jimmy!” she shrieked, “want to ketch some mo' contagwous 'seases, don't yuh? what dat y' all got now?” as she drew nearer a smile of recognition and appreciation overspread her big good-natured face. then she burst into a loud, derisive laugh. “what y' all gwine to do wid miss minerva's old bustle?” she enquired. “y' all sho' am de contaritest chillens in dis here copperation.”

“bustle?” echoed billy, “what's a bustle?”

“dat-ar's a bustle—dat's what's a bustle. ladies useto wear 'em 'cause dey so stylish to make they dresses stick out in the back. come on home, jimmy, 'fore yuh ketch de yaller jandis er de epizootics; yo' ma tol' yuh to stay right at home.”

“well, i'm coming, ain't i?” scowled the little boy. “mama needn't to know nothing 'thout you tell.”

“would you take yo' mama's present now, jimmy?” asked billy; “you ain't earnt it.”

“wouldn't you?” asked jimmy, doubtfully.

“naw, i would n't, not 'thout i tol' her.”

“well, i'll tell her i just comed over a minute to see 'bout miss minerva's bustle,” he agreed as he again tumbled over the fence.

a little negro boy, followed by a tiny, white dog, was passing by miss minerva's gate.

billy promptly flew to the gate and hailed him. jimmy, looking around to see that sarah jane had gone back to the kitchen, as promptly rolled over the fence and joined him.

“lemme see yo' dog,” said the former.

“ain't he cute?” said the latter.

the little darkey picked up the dog and passed it across the gate.

“i wish he was mine,” said the smaller child, as he took the soft, fluffy little ball in his arms; “what'll you take for him?”

the negro boy had never seen the dog before, but he immediately accepted the ownership thrust upon him and answered without hesitation, “i'll take a dollar for her.”

“i ain't got but a nickel. billy, ain't you got 'nough money to put with my nickel to make a dollar?”

“naw; i ain't got a red cent.”

“i'll tell you what we'll do,” suggested jimmy; “we'll trade you a baseball mask for him. my mama's going to give me a new mask 'cause i all time stay at home; so we'll trade you our old one. go get it, billy.”

thus commanded billy ran and picked up the bustle where it lay neglected on the grass and handed it to the quasi-owner of the puppy.

the deal was promptly closed and a little black negro went grinning down the street with miss minerva's old bustle tied across his face, leaving behind him a curly-haired dog.

“ain't he sweet?” said jimmy, hugging the fluffy white ball close to his breast, “we got to name him, billy.”

“le's name her peruny pearline,” was the suggestion of the other joint owner.

“he ain't going to be name' nothing at all like that,” declared jimmy; “you all time got to name our dogs the scalawaggest name they is. he's going to be name' 'sam lamb' 'cause he's my partner.”

“she's a girl dog,” argued billy, “an' she can't be name' no man's name. if she could i'd call her major.”

“i don't care what sort o' dog he is, girl or boy, he's going to be name' 'sam lamb'!” and he fondly stroked the little animal's soft head.

“here, peruny! here, peruny!” and billy tried to snatch her away.

the boys heard a whistle; the dog heard it, too. springing from the little boy's arms sam lamb peruny pearline ran under the gate and flew to meet her master, who was looking for her.