"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.