Skeeter grinned, snickered, chuckled, laughed. He stood up, turned around, sat down again, and laughed louder.
“Ain’t dat no good tip?” Shin asked.
“Yes, suh, dat’s a dandy,” Skeeter proclaimed. “All dat tip signifies to me is, don’t lose no money on Skipper.”
“You don’t onderstan’ ’bout dis, Skeeter,” Shin said earnestly. “You see, I is about to marrify into Pap Curtain’s fambly, an’ he jes’ passed me de news fer my own good.”
“Who is you gwine take on?” Skeeter asked.
“Dat little charcoal blonde named Whiffle Boone,” Shin told him. “An’ dis Skipper hoss belongs to her maw.”
“Huh,” Skeeter grunted. “Mebbe dat’s diffunt an’ mebbe not. How much change is you got to bet?”
“I ain’t got none,” Shin replied sadly. “I wants to borrer a leetle. I’ll gib you a owe-bill agin’ my eatin’-house ef you’ll loant me some.”
Skeeter weighed this for a minute, then said:
“Us’ll fix it dis way, Shin: I’ll loant you fifty dollars on yo’ eatin’-house, pervided you’ll let me handle de money an’ manage de bets. I jes’ nachelly hates to pass out money to anodder coon.”