“Is that all you've got to complain about?” Lavinia inquired.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“All right, then. Go back to the kitchen. You can use the board for kindling wood.”
“Who? Me touch dat t'ing? No, ma'am, not dis nigger!”
“I'll be the coon to burn it,” I shouted. “I'll be glad to burn it.”
Gladolia's heavy steps moved off kitchenward.
Then my Lavinia turned waspishly to me again. “John, there's not a bit of use trying to deceive me. What is it you are trying to conceal from me?”
“Who? Me? Oh, no,” I lied elaborately, looking around to see if that dratted ghost was concealed enough. She was so big, and I'm rather a smallish man. But that was a bad move on my part.
“John,” Lavinia demanded like a ward boss, “you are hiding somebody in here! Who is it?”
I only waved denial and gurgled in my throat. She went on, “It's bad enough to have you flirt over the Ouija board with that hussy——”