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And more bubbles than you can wink your eye at. Aw aw, such poor cold little hands, and no gloves for such cold little hands! Here, lemme warm 'em. Wouldn't I just love to wrap a little Peachy like you up in a great big fur coat and put them little cold hands in a great big muff and hang some great big headlight earrings in them little bittsie ears. Wouldn't I, though. M-m-m-m!
The small bunch in her arms raised his head and regarded her with pink, sick little eyes, his tongue darting this way and that in an aftermath of relish; then fell to licking her bare forearm with swift, dry strokes. "Muvver's ittsie bittsie Snookie! Him love him poor muvver! Him poor, poor muvver!"
He leaned for her hand. "Little bittsie, black-eyed baby, you got me wrong." "Ugh-h! Quit! Let go!" He straightened, regarding her solemnly and controlling the slight swaying of his figure. "I'm a gentleman." Her laugh was more of a cough. "There ain't no such animal." "There ain't? I seen you trying to rope one to-day, all righty. I seen you." "You what?" "Sure I did. The slick guy in checks."
"Was muvver's ittsie Snookie Ookie such a hungry bow-wow?" He yapped shortly, pawing her. "Ask big bossie sitting over there carving his din-din if him got chocolate tandy in him pocket like always for Snookie Ookie. No, no, bad red meat no good for ittsie bittsie bow-wow. Go ask big bossie what him got this time in him pocket for Snookie.
Miss Emelene huddled the object of controversy up in her chin, talking down into the warm gray fur. "Was 'em tryin' to 'buse muvver's ittsie bittsie kittsie? Muvver's ittsie bittsie kittsie!" They were in the front hall now, Mr. Evans tugging at the door. "I'll run around now and arrange to have your trunks called for at five.
Hurry, dearie!" She snatched up her furry trifle of a dog, burying her warming face in his fleece. "M-m-muvver loves her bow-bow. Muvver loves whole world. Muvver just loves whole world. M-m-m-m, chocolate? Just one ittsie bittsie piece and muvver eat half m-m-m! La-la! Bow-wow! La! La!"
Lemme kidnap you this very night. She withdrew stiff-backed against his embrace. "Is is that what you mean by by kidnapping me?" "Sure. There ain't nothing I'd rather do. Are you on, Peaches? A sensible little queen like you knows which side her bread is buttered on. There ain't nothing I want more than to see you all bundled up in a fur coat with headlights in your little bittsie pink ears."
"Livers him going to have and biscuits made in my own ittsie bittsie oven. Eh?" "Swell." She divested herself of her wraps, fluffing her mahogany-colored hair where the hat had restricted it, lighted a tiny stove off in the tiny kitchenette and enveloped herself in a blue-bib-top apron.
"No more tandy! Make ittsie Snookie Ookie sick! Make muvver's ittsie bittsie bow-wow sick! No! No!" Each admonition she accompanied with a slight pat designed to intimidate further display of appetite.
Michelson dropped a lump of butter into the fluffy heart of a biscuit and clapped the halves together. "Some biscuits!" "Bad boy, stop jollying." "Say, if I'd tell you the truth about what I think of these biscuits, you'd say I was writing a streetcar advertisement for baking-powder. Say, this is some cup custard!" "More?" "Full to my eyebrows." "Just a little bittsie?" "Nope."
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