"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."