"Does you aim to say dat I cain't conversation in privut wid my frien's?" Pearline snapped.
"No'm not perzackly dat," Plaster hastened to explain. "But it looks kinder onpossible to me as long as I'm tied up wid you on dis chain."
"Git over again dat wall while dese ladies whispers to me," Pearline replied, giving him a push.
Plaster sat down and strained his ears to hear. What he heard was spasmodic giggles. He saw mischievous glances directed to himself. Once he saw his wife look straight at him reproachfully, as if she suspected that he was trying to overhear. There was half an hour of this, then the three giggling women took their departure.
"Whut did dem nigger women want, Pearline?" Plaster demanded.
"Dat's a fambly secret," Pearline giggled.
"Does you think you oughter hab any secrets from yo' cote-house husbunt?" Plaster demanded belligerently.
"Naw, suh. Not no secrets dat stays secrets, but dis here little myst'ry will git public powerful soon."
Coming through the medium of Plaster's troubled conscience, this answer sounded ominous. Pearline picked up some sewing and Plaster reached for his unwhittled stick. He spent one half-hour in deep thought. He was sorry he had told Pearline that those three women were old sweethearts of his. He recalled that his courtship of each woman had broken up in a row and a fist-fight. It had been one-sided, the women conducting the row and doing all the fighting while Plaster endeavored to escape. Now Plaster had no other idea than that they were hot on his trail. They were planning to make his life miserable through the jealousy of his wife.
There was a loud knock on the front door. The two arose and the door opened to Vinegar Atts, Figger Bush, and Hitch Diamond.