er day, en ax how's you en yer son stallin' dis hot wedder!" Nelse bowed and smiled.
"What ail you, you big black baboon?"
"Nuttin' tall M'am, des callin' roun' ter see my frien's." Still smiling Nelse walked in and sat down.
Eve put down her sewing, stood up before him, her arms akimbo, and gazed at him steadily till the whites of her eyes began to shine like two moons.
"You wants me ter whale you ober de head wid dat poker?"
"Not dis evenin', M'am."
"Den what ail you?"
"De Buro des inform me, dat es I'se er young han'some man en you'se er gittin' kinder ole en fat, dat we aint married nohow. En dey gimme er paper fur er dollar dat allow me ter marry de young lady er my choice. Dat sho is er great Buro!"
"We aint married?"
"Nob-um."
"Atter we stan' up dar befo' Marse John Durham en say des what all dem white folks say?"
"Nob-um."
Eve slowly took her seat and gazed down the road thoughtfully.
"I t'ink I drap eroun' ter see you en gin you er chance wid de odder gals fo' I steps off," explained Nelse with a grin.
No answer.
"You 'member dat night I say sumfin' 'bout er gal I know once, en you riz en grab er poun' er wool outen my head fo' I kin move?"
No answer yet.
"Min' dat time, you bust de biscuit bode ober my head, en lam me wid de fire-shovel, en hit me in de burr er de year wid er flatiron es I wuz makin' fur de do'?"
