“Yes, suh,” Shin continued, finding it easier to talk now that he had made a start. “I always believed dat Whiffle wus jes’ as good frien’ to me as a wife nachelly gits to be, but now I done changed my mind.”
“Who is de man whut runs atter her?” Vinegar asked.
“I don’t know, an’ I cain’t find out,” Shin responded. “Of co’se, no nigger man ain’t gwine come to see her when I’m hangin’ aroun’. Whoever is courtin’ Whiffle comes to de back door of de resteraw when I’m out in town somewhar.”
“Mebbe it’s some of her kinnery dat has sneaked back to town an’ ain’t hankerin’ to be perceived, especially by de police.”
“It couldn’t be none like dat,” Shin replied. “Whiffle ain’t got but one kinfolks, an’ dat wus her brudder. Dat brudder is plumb absent fer good an’ all. You knows whut happened to him, don’t you?”
“Naw, suh,” Vinegar answered, scraping his head with the palm of his hand to stir his recollection.
“It come to pass at our weddin’,” Shin told him. “Atter we got hitched, a passel of niggers moseyed over to our house to wish us a fussless married life an’ git a sasser of ice-cream an’ cake. Us soon gobbled up our vittles, an’ I gib her brudder, Pewter Boone, a ten-dollar bill to go git some more eats. He went.”
“Well?” Vinegar snapped. “Go on wid de story.”
“Dat’s all,” Shin responded. “As I tole you, Pewter went. He tuck my ten dollars an’ jes’ nachelly abandoned me. He ain’t never come back, an’ I’m got a hunch dat he’s gwine till yit.”
“I don’t remember when dat nigger lived in Tickfall at all,” Vinegar said.