"Git in an' ride, Uncle Jabez," he said, pulling up beside his former working companion.
Jabez clambered into the buggy and disposed his long legs as best he could. He was slightly under the influence of corn whiskey and the smell of it was upon his breath. He pulled out a bottle from his hip pocket.
"Have a drink, Jerry," he said, handing it to the younger man.
Jerry took a long pull at the bottle.
"Where be you a-goin' in yer good clothes, with yer buggy an' mare all slicked up so neat?"
"No place."
"Aw, don't go to tellin' me that. I been a young feller too in my day. What gal air you a-sparkin', Jerry?"
"No gal."
"Jerry, 'tain't no youst fer the young to try to hide things from the old. They been through it all. You might as well own up you're on the track o' some wench. What's her name?"
"Aw, shet up, Uncle Jabez. You know I hain't a-sparkin' no gal."