III.
"Looky here, Pearline, I ain't used to totin' dis ole steel band on my wrist an' it hurts my feelin's," Plaster complained as he sat at the breakfast-table before a meal which had been left on the door-step a few minutes before by Hitch Diamond.
"Don't begin to howl an' pull back like a dawg tied under a wagin, Plaster," Pearline urged prettily, as she helped herself to liberal portions of the breakfast prepared in Sheriff Flournoy's kitchen. "You won't kick about wearin' it as long as you loves me, will you?"
"No'm," Plaster said, as he lifted the chain to a more comfortable place upon the dining-table. "But I shore wish dat white man hadn't choosed such a heavy chain."
"Dis chain ain't heavy, Plaster," Pearline protested. "You hadn't oughter talk dat way. Excusin' dat, I likes dis chain—it ties us to each yuther. Don't you like it?"
"Yes'm, I shore does."
"How come you complains about it fer?"
"I ain't got no lament, Pearline—dat is, I ain't mean it dat way."
The bridegroom filled his mouth with food and for the next ten minutes ate voraciously. One watching him would draw the inference that he was not eating to enjoy the food so much as to find some occupation for his mouth beside speech.
Pearline reached out with her free hand and toyed with the chain, twisting it about her fingers lovingly, a dreamy light in her coal-black eyes.
"Us had de biggest weddin' in cullud circles, Plaster," she murmured.
"I ain't no cullud circle," Plaster mumbled, his mouth full of food. "But I reckin I got to run circles aroun' you 'slong as dis ole chain stays on. Don't rattle dat chain so loud, Pearly! Gosh! It makes a heap of racket fer its little size."
"You jes' now said it wus a big, heavy chain fer its size," his wife reminded him in a sweetly argumentative tone.
"Yes'm, it am—dis chain is bofe little an' big—fer its size," the groom amended hastily. "Stop talkin' about dis chain!"
"You started dis talk," she reminded him reproachfully. "You said it hurted yo' wrist."
There was a loud knock upon the door. Plaster sprang up to answer. The chain jerked at his wrist.
"Good gawsh!" he snorted. "Come to de door wid me, honey, so I kin open up."
"I cain't, Plaster," the bride exclaimed in a panic. "I ain't dressed fer comp'ny dis soon in de mawnin."
"You's got on all de clothes you owns," the groom reminded her.
"Suttinly, but I ain't got no white powder on my black nose," she giggled. "Come back in de nex' room an' let me fresh up befo' we opens de door."
"I stayed in dar a plum' hour while you wus freshin' up fer yo' viteles," Plaster grumbled.
"Don't git grumped up, Plaster," Pearline urged. "You ack like yo' love is commenced to wilt aroun' de edges."
Meekly the man followed her to the bedroom and stood for fifteen minutes while the bride primped her hair, powdered her nose, adjusted her collar, fiddled with her belt, put pins in her shirt-waist, took them out and deposited them in her mouth, put them back into her waist, turned around and looked at herself in the mirror, hunted for a fresh handkerchief and could not find it, located it at last in the bosom of her waist, wondered where she had left her chewing-gum, found it on top of the box of face-powder, and finally said:
"Come on—less hurry up. Dat comp'ny will git tired waitin' fer us!"
"Dat comp'ny is gone done it," Plaster sighed. "I peeped through de crack in de door an' seed 'em. Hitch Diamond knocked fo' times, den opened de door an' picked up dem breakfast-dishes an' trod out."
"Dat's too bad," Pearline remarked with no interest whatever. She was looking at herself in the mirror. "I'd like to seen Hitchie. He use to be one of my ole sweethearts."
"Come out an' set under de tree wid me an' mebbe dat ole sweetheart of yourn will come back," Plaster suggested.
"I don't like to git out in de sunshine," the girl replied. "Dar's too much glare."
"Too much—which?" Plaster asked.
"Glare."
"Yes'm."
Plaster stood looking at her helplessly, wondering where they were going from there.
"Does you love me, Plaster?" the girl asked, siding up to him and stepping on the chain.
"Yes'm," Plaster answered as he pulled the chain from under her feet and rubbed his wrist. "Don't step on dat chain no mo'. You might break it."
"How come you don't tell me you loves me?"
"I done tole you 'bout fawty times dis mawnin'," Plaster reminded her.
"But you ain't never tole me onless I axed you."
"Less go somewhar an' set down an' I'll tell you a millyum times," Plaster said eagerly.
"Bless Gawd, I knows you loves me a plum' plenty, but I likes to hear you tell dem words. Wait a minute till I puts—er—I b'lieve I oughter change de collar on dis dress. A clean one would make me look mo' fresher."
Plaster lingered until the woman was dressed to her fancy, resting his weight first on one impatient leg, then upon the other.
"You wastes a heap of time fixin' yo'se'f, Pearly," he sighed at last. "I hopes you'll soon git dressed up fer de day."
"You wants yo' wife to look nice, don't you?" she asked reproachfully.
"Yes'm."
"How kin I look nice 'thout takin' de time to dress?"
They went out and sat down under the pecan-tree in the "glare." Pearline seemed to have forgotten the glare. Plaster lighted a cigarette, smoked it to the end, lighted another, smoked it to the end, and lighted another. Then Pearline remarked:
"Honey, does you love me more dan you loves dem cigareets?"
"I shore does"—with moderate fervor.
"Does you love me a millyum times mo' dan you loves cigareets?"
"Suttinly."
"Den, fer gossake, throw dem cigareets away! Dey smells like some kind o' fumigate."
"I cain't do that, Pearly. Dese here smokes costes money. An' I couldn't affode to buy 'em ef I had to wuck fer de money. Dey's a weddin' present."
"Is you gwine smoke all yo' married life?"
"Yes'm."
"But you ain't gwine smoke no mo' fer de nex' three days, is you?"
"No'm."
Pearline thrust her hand into Plaster's pocket and brought forth his precious smokes. She concealed them in the mysterious recesses of her attire and Plaster sighed deeply.
Ten minutes later the girl straightened up with a fierceness that nearly snapped her spinal column.
"Fer mussy sake, Plaster Sickety! Whut is you got in yo' mouf?"
"I's nibblin' a few crumbs of terbacker, honey," Plaster said apologetically.
"My gawsh! You aim to tell me dat you chaws?"
"Yes'm. I chaws a little bit now an' den. It kinder helps my brains to think an' sottles my stomick."
There was a long silence. Plaster stared straight ahead of him, his jaws moving with the regularity of a ruminant cow, his eyes counting the leaves on the trees, the pickets on the broken-down fence, and estimating the number of ants crawling out of a hill. Then, unconsciously, he reached into his pocket for another cigarette. He did not find it.
He heard a suspicious sound beside him and looked at Pearline.
"Whut you cryin' about honey?"
"You tole me you loved me more dan cigareets, an' yit you cain't set by me a minute 'thout chawin' terbacker," she wailed. "You is blood kin brudder to a worm an' a goat—nothin' else chaws!"
"Lawd!" Plaster sighed in desperation. "I sees now dat I'm got to learn how to suck eggs an' hide de shells."
Suddenly a loud whoop was heard near at hand and out of the swamp came Vinegar Atts, Figger Bush, Mustard Prophet and Hitch Diamond.
"Hey, niggers!" Plaster bawled. "Come up an' set down. Lawd, I nefer wus so glad to see nobody in my whole life."
"Good mawnin', Sister Pearline!" Vinegar chuckled. "How is yo'-alls enjoyin' mattermony life by now?"
"Fine," the bride smiled, with a suspicion of tears still in her eyes.
"Praise de Lawd!" exclaimed Vinegar. "I wus skeart you niggers would be fightin' by now, an' mebbe one of yous would be draggin' de yuther on de end o' dat chain—dead!"
"Naw, suh!" Plaster howled, as he snatched a cigar out of Hitch Diamond's pocket and stuck it in his mouth. "Us is gittin' along puffeckly."
Plaster snatched his cigar from his lips with his manacled hand and flourished it with a motion of broad contentment. Pearline gave the chain a quick jerk and the smoke flew from Plaster's fingers and fell over in the high grass.
"You two idjits look like a holy show to me," Figger Bush cackled. "How come you don't charge admissions to de show an' git rich?"
"Us wouldn't git rich quick," Pearline giggled. Hitch Diamond had retrieved the cigar, and Pearline had taken it from him and stuck it in her hair. "You-all is de onlies' comp'ny we is had till yit."
"I hopes you niggers will stay wid us all day, brudders," Plaster exclaimed earnestly. "We wus feelin' kinder—er—me an' Pearline wus feelin' sorter—er—"
"Uh-huh," Hitch Diamond grunted knowingly. "Dat's a fack. We ole married folks onderstan's dem feelin's. I'd feel dat way mese'f ef I wus in yo' fix. I'd whet up my teeth on a brick-bat an' bite myse'f in my own gizzard an' die."
"Not me!" Figger Bush howled. "Ef I wus chained to dat little gal, I'd git me a plow-line an' wrop it aroun' our necks."
"I would, too," Vinegar bellowed. "But I'd tie de yuther eend of dat plow-line to a tree an' jump off de worl'."
"I bet Pearline don't hanker to jump offen no worl'," Mustard Prophet proclaimed. "Look at her—she's jes' as happy as ef she had sense."
The eyes of the four men turned upon the girl appraisingly. Then Pearline remembered that a few moments before she had been sniffling and shedding tears. She was sure her eyes were red, and she knew the tears had washed all the white powder off her black nose. Quickly she rose to her feet, giving the ten-foot chain a sharp jerk.
"I hates to take you from yo' frien's, Plaster," she exclaimed, "but I'm got to go in. I cain't stand de glare."
Side by side they entered the cabin and the chain rattled as they shut the door.
And the evening and the morning were the first day.