Billy went to the fence, where he signaled Jimmy to meet him.

"Aunt Minerva say you come over an' listen to her read some er
the pretties' tales you ever hear," he said, as if conferring a
great favor.

"Naw, sirree-bob!" was the impolite response across the fence,
"them 'bout the measliest tales they is. I'll come if she'll
read my Uncle Remus book."

"Please come on," begged Billy, dropping the patronizing manner
that he had assumed, in hope of inducing his chum to share his
martyrdom. "You know Aunt Minerva'd die in her tracks 'fore
she'd read Uncle Remus. You'll like these-here tales 'nother
sight better anyway. I'll give you my stoney if you'll come."

"Naw; you ain't going to get me in no such box as that. If
she'd just read seven or eight hours I wouldn't mind; but she'll
get you where she wants you and read 'bout a million hours. I
know Miss Minerva."

Billy's aunt was growing impatient.

"Come, William," she called. "I am waiting for you."

Jimmy went back to his own porch and the other boy joined
his kinswoman.

"Why wouldn't Jimmy come?" she asked.