“Giddap, Betty,” shouted Amos. “De ole woman got a stick. Make has’e.”
Instead, Morey drew the old horse up sharply and sprang out.
As the panic-stricken old mammy came rolling down the road, shaking her stick and yelling “Da’s mah chicken,” the white boy began calling, in turn:
“All right, Aunty, don’t get excited. We made a mistake.”
“Gib me mah fowl,” wailed the colored woman.
“Two bits,” shouted Morey, “two bits.”
As he held up his last quarter the old colored woman’s angry face softened. Having satisfied her, Morey returned to the vehicle and the astounded Amos.
“Now,” began Morey, “if we should happen upon a toll gate, we’re stuck. I haven’t a cent.”
Amos shifted uneasily.