“Never mind what you came in for,” returned Matt. “You broke the glass and you will have to pay for it.”
At the young auctioneer’s statement the faces of all four of the colored men took on a savage look. They had drifted in to do pretty much as they pleased, and had not expected to meet with such strong and sudden opposition.
“I won’t pay for nuffin!” growled the ringleader of the quartet. “I dun reckon somebody else in the crowd broke the glass.”
“Cos da did,” replied another of the colored men. “Maybe yo’ think yo’ kin lay it on us just because we is colored, hey?”
“Not at all; a colored man can be as much of a gentleman as any one—if he wishes to be,” put in Andy.
“Do youse mean to insinuate dat we ain’t gen’men?” questioned one of the crowd roughly.
“You are not gentlemen when you break glass and refuse to pay for it,” returned Andy. “That 223 glass is worth at least a dollar, and unless it is paid for, somebody will be handed over to the police.”
“Huh! do yo’ fink yo’ kin scare us, boss?”
“Yo’ say another word an’ we’ll do up de hull place!”
“We is as good as any white trash, remember dat!”