“Hol’ on, Hitch!” Dude exclaimed. “You ain’t gimme dem silk socks yit!”
Hitch’s experience in Sawtown had made him cautious. After a man has parted with a certain amount of his wearing apparel, he becomes reluctant to separate himself from the rest in a civilized community unless he contemplates becoming a he-mermaid and living in the river.
Hitch held out one sock.
“I’ll gib you one sock now, Dude,” he said cunningly. “Dat’ll keep yo’ mind int’rusted. Atter I git de dram, I’ll leave de yuther sock on de flo’ or de mantlepiece, kinder keerless like.”
Dude accepted the partial payment and stuck the gaudy sock into his derby hat and placed the hat on his head.
On his way to the cabin, which lay across the pasture, Hitch Diamond also did some heavy thinking.
“I wonder how much dram dat nigger woman is got,” he muttered to himself. “I bet dar ain’t enough for two. Ef she ain’t nothin’ but one of dese here soft, giggly, gal-wifes, mebbe I kin bamboozle her outen a dram befo’ Dude comes in.”
Dainty met Hitch at the door.
“My name am Hitch Diamond, Dainty,” he rumbled. “I met Dude out in de cow pasture an’ he tole me he done cormitted mattermony. I felt powerful bad because he didn’t send fer his ole preacher frien’ to come ’n’ marrify him. He sont me up here to take a look at you.”
“Come in, elder,” Dainty giggled. “How is you feelin’ to-day?”