“I ain’t gwine stay here an’ listen,” Isaiah snapped. “I jes’ stopped by to ax about Popsy’s finances. Ef he’s still got de dough he had when he arrived up at dis town, he’s got twicet as much as de gal he’s studin’ to marry an’ dat’ll make a good match.”
“Hol’ on, Isaiah,” Figger wailed. “Who did you say Popsy wus aimin’ to marry?”
“I ain’t specified,” Isaiah grinned, reaching for his hat and preparing to go. “But I don’t mind tellin’—it’s my stepchile by my fourth wife’s fust marriage, Mrs. Solly Skaggs!”
The exclamation which Figger uttered at this information indicated that he had exhausted all the treasuries of speech: language could go no further.
“I tole you to save some cuss-words,” Isaiah grinned.
Skeeter groaned, fanning himself with his hat.
“Dar won’t be enough room in Popsy’s little cabin fer Figger an’ his wife an’ Popsy an’ his wife,” he meditated aloud. “Solly is a cabin-full all by herse’f.”
“Popsy is shore gittin’ plenty fer his money,” Isaiah chuckled. “I’s glad she’s ended up dat way. Dat fat gal kin eat as much as fo’teen chillun an’ a cow an’ a calf. I don’t hanker to suppote her.”
“How come Popsy made up his mind to ack a fool so suddent?” Skeeter wailed.
“He seen Figger dancin’ wid Solly an’ he don’t approve of dat exoncise. He’s marryin’ Solly to refawm her an’ to git him a new housekeeper because he’s gwine chase Figger an’ Scootie outen his cabin fer deceivin’ him.”