"HAND OUT THEM LETTERS.
433
mile, and find out what that creetur's up to, this time, as long as I couldn't seem to get any answer out of you about it."
"Why, I never heard nothing from you," says Aunt Sally.
"Well, I wonder! Why, I wrote to you twice, to ask you what you could mean by Sid being here."
"Well, I never got 'em, Sis."
"HAND OUT THEM LETTERS."
Aunt Polly, she turns around slow and severe, and says:
"You, Tom!"
"Well—what?" he says, kind of pettish.
"Don't you what me, you impudent thing—hand out them letters."
"What letters?"
f f
