“Certainly not. But what’s Jane got to do with it?”
“She’s got a lot to do with it. She’s a dark woman, ain’t she?”
“Not especially. Brown or chestnut, I’d say.”
“Well, say bay, if you want to,” roared Mr. Sikes. “And I’ll tell you something you don’t know about Jane. She’s in love with Oliver, and always has been.”
“Go on!”
“That makes her one of the dark women, don’t it? And she makes two, don’t she? And this here new one—the one that was setting in his lap—she makes the third fair one, don’t she? Well, what you got to say to that? This is the last straw. I been prayin’ to God that we could get through the year without another light woman turning up. And here she comes, right when everything was looking safe. I—”
“He won’t take any notice of this yaller-haired girl,” said Mr. Link, with an air of finality. “I can tell you something about Oliver that you don’t know. He’s in love with Jane, as the saying is, and always has been.”
Mr. Sikes stopped again in his tracks and glowered at Mr. Link. “Who told you that?” he demanded.
Mr. Link took time to search several tree tops before answering. Then he solemnly said: “I’m not sure it was the one I see perched over yonder at the top of that second tree, but if it wasn’t that one it was one just like it. A little bird told me.”
“Talk sense! Who told you Oliver was in love with Jane?”