“Dat’s all, Little Bit!” Skeeter told him. “You git!”
With the nervous solemnity of a man who was determining the destiny of two lives, Skeeter turned the envelope so he could see the address.
“It’s de letter to Limit Lark,” he almost whispered.
Tick Hush sighed deeply.
“Dat’s fine, Skeeter,” he said in a low voice. “I sorter hoped it’d be Limit Lark, an’ I’d be plum’ happy ef she takes me—only but now I kinder wish de yuther woman hadn’t drawed no blank.”
“Mebbe Limit won’t take you an’ dat ’ll gib you a shot at de yuther gal,” Skeeter said hopefully. “Lemme see. Limit wucks fer Judge Lanark. I’ll write his name on one corner of dis, an’ dey ’ll put de letter in de judge’s box.”
Skeeter stamped the envelope and called Little Bit.
“Take dis right straight to de post-office, boy,” he commanded.
“Much obleeged, Skeeter,” Tick said as he started out. “Dat he’ps a mighty load offen my mind.”
When Tick Hush had gone, Skeeter stood fumbling with the letter addressed to Vakey Vapp. He placed a stamp upon it. Then a slow grin spread over his face.