“The other feller living with me is the minister at the brick church.”
“The minister living with you!”
“Yes.”
“With you? But you ain’t got religion.”
“I cal’late that’s the safest guess you ever made, Clemmie, but just now it’s cooking, and not religion, that’s bothering me.”
“Lan’ sakes! You ain’t trying to cook for the minister, be you?” she asked incredulously.
“You put it just right, I’m trying to. I don’t know how long he’ll be able to stand it, but he won’t go nowhere else.”
“Poor thing!” she exclaimed. “Poor thing!”
“Them’s my sentiments, too, Clemmie.”
“And no doubt he’s a frail creature, too, 128 and ought to have the best of care. So many of them are that way.”