"You ain't sore because I asked Joe? It's business, Babe."
"Of course I ain't, honey; only, with you and him goin' right over to Al's afterward, what's the sense of me goin'? I wanna stay home and think. It's just like beginnin' to-night I could sit here and look right into the time when there ain't goin' to be no more waitin' up nights for my boy. I—They got all little white chickens out at Denny's roadhouse, Blutch—white with red combs. Can we have some like them?"
"You betcher life we can! I'm going to win the beginnings of that farm before I'm a night older. Lordy! Lordy! and to think I never knew anything was eatin' her!"
"Blutch, I—I don't know what to say. I keep cryin' when I wanna laugh. I never was so happy, Blutch, I never was."
"My little kitty-puss!"
* * * * *
At seven o'clock came Mr. Joe Kirby, dark, corpulent, and black of cigar.
"Come right in, Joe! I'm here and waitin' for you."
"Ain't the missis in on this killin'?"
"She—Not this—"