“Don’t make no scenery, Popsy,” Figger pleaded. “I didn’t really intend to dance but dis here woman betrayed me into treadin’ a tune or two wid her an’ I couldn’t resist.”
“You means dat you wus tempted by dis here woman?” Popsy whined.
“Dat’s whut,” Figger replied solemnly.
“You go home an’ repent an’ refawm!” Popsy shrieked. “Do it befo’ de good Lawd draps a brickbat on yo’ head outen de sky! Git!”
Figger pocketed his nickel-plated cigarette holder and moved away.
Popsy turned and surveyed the ample proportions of Mrs. Solly Skaggs.
“You needs a good steady husbunt to keep you back from yo’ evil ways, sister,” he announced. “You didn’t hab no call to lead my little Figger Bush into evil ways.”
“I won’t do it no more, Popsy,” Mrs. Skaggs said easily.
Old Popsy Spout growled like a senile bear and moved away. On the edge of the platform Pap was waiting for him, feeling well satisfied with himself and the revenge he had achieved.
“Pap, Figger Bush is done cut hisse’f off from me ferever,” the old man snapped. “I’s gwine drive him an’ his wife outen my house an’ home.”