The front legs of Skeeter’s chair came down upon the sand with a thump, he straightened his derby upon his closely shaved head, adjusted his high collar, and his noisy cravat, and waited.
Whiffle Bone came around the rear of the saloon, leading her two-year-old boy by the hand. Skeeter sprang up, gave her a chair, and seated himself. The baby dropped upon the ground and began the construction of a sand house.
Not a word was spoken until both were comfortably seated, then Shin Bone’s wife began:
“Me an’ Shin is picked a fuss wid each yuther an’ quit.”
“Yes’m,” Skeeter answered sympathetically.
The woman sat twisting her nervous hands, biting her lips, and turning at intervals to look behind her as if she expected some one to follow her. Finally she leaned over, rested her elbows upon her lap and her head upon her hands and began to cry, wailing like a calliope.
“Lawdymussy!” Skeeter gasped sucking the stub of his lighted cigarette into his mouth in his surprise. He sprang up, gagged, clawed at his lips, dancing first on one foot, then on the other.
“Aw, hush!” Skeeter howled at last, when he had rescued himself from the fire. “Shut up! Ef you wanter bust up wid Shin Bone, bust—but don’t beller! Ef you wanter cornfess up to me about yo’ troubles, bawl out—but don’t beller! Ef you wanter pull my leg fer a few loose change to git back to yo’ home folks, go ahead an’ pull—but fer Gawd’s sake, don’t beller! Dis ain’t de right season of de year fer a long wet spell like you done started—it’ll spile de craps!”
Any married man could have told Skeeter that the best way to turn a light summer shower into a cloud-burst of rainfall was to admonish a woman not to cry. As it was, Skeeter learned this fact on this occasion by hard experience. The louder Skeeter bawled, the louder Whiffle Bone “bellered,” and finally Skeeter sat down in despair and began to fiddle with a brass wrist-watch which he wore.
Gradually Whiffle’s wails died down to an occasional blobbering gurgle, like water pouring out of the choked neck of a bottle. When she straightened up and began to mop the tears from her cheeks with the corner of her apron, Skeeter inquired: