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

“Come over dis way, Pap,” he called.

When Pap and Mustard stood side by side, Skeeter leaned over the bar and said earnestly:

“Pap, I want you an’ Mustard to keep bar fer me till I git back.”

“Dat suits us!” the two darkies chanted.

“I’ll tend to little Ready Rocket, Mustard,” Skeeter said as he reached for his derby hat.

As he passed out the two negroes looked at each other and grinned.

“Skeeter’s done kotch de mattermony germ agin,” Pap chuckled. “Tryin’ to hitch up wid Happy Rocket an’ her whelp. Lawd! Think of Skeeter marryin’ a widder an’ a ready-made fambly!”

Skeeter made a bee-line for Mustard Prophet’s cabin where Mrs. Happy Rocket could be found. But he had no matrimonial intentions.

“I jes’ drapped over to tell you ’bout little Ready Rocket, Happy,” Skeeter began as soon as he was seated. “Ready won’t be home to-night.”

“Won’t—which?” Happy’s voice was almost a scream.