More E. K. Means / Is This a Title? It Is Not. It Is the Name of a Writer of Negro Stories, Who Has Made Himself So Completely the Writer of Negro Stories That This Second Book, Like the First, Needs No Title

by E. K. Means

“Dat’s a fine start-off,” Skeeter assured him. “I think she’ll kotch on to dat easy.”

“Say, ’I wants to git married right away’—hold on, Skeeter!” Tick exclaimed in a sudden panic. “Don’t be so peart ’bout writin’ how soon—tell her atter while, befo’ long, when I kin git aroun’ to it, when de craps is all in, or somepin like dat.”

“Naw!” Skeeter retorted as he began to write. “Tell her de real facks: ‘I wants to git married in de nex’ ten days.’”

“O Lawdy,” Tick sighed. “Dat sounds powerful early to me!”

“Go on!” Skeeter snapped.

“Say, ‘I hopes—I hopes—I hopes——’”

“Shut up!” Skeeter snapped. “You sound like a danged ole donkey brayin’—you don’t hope nothin’! Tell on!”

“Say, ‘Me an’ Skeeter—us thinks you-all oughter marry us’!” Tick Hush dictated.

Skeeter Butts laid aside his pencil and leaned back, glaring at Tick with mingled pity and contempt.

“You is de worst igermus I knows of, Ticky Hush!” he squealed. “Ef you an’ me wus to swap heads, I’d die a durn fool! Stop talkin’ wid yo’ mouth an’ think!”