“Who was the woman?” Joe asked.
“She some kin ter Mink,” answered Harbert, evasively.
“Well, what kin?” asked Joe.
“She ain’t so mighty much kin, needer,” said Harbert. “She des his wife. She ’low dat ef you got any washin’ er darnin’ dat you want done she be glad ter do it, an’ den I say, ‘Shoo nigger ’oman! G’way fum here! What you speck my wife here fer?’”
Here Harbert tried to look indignant, but failed. Presently he continued: “Dat are ’simmon beer got sign in it.”
“What sign is that?” asked Joe.
“Well, suh, when ’simmonses is ripe hit’s a shore sign dat ’possum ready ter eat, an’ tain’t gwine ter be long ’fo’ you hear me a-hollerin’ ’roun’ thoo de woods, mo’ speshually if I kin git holt er dem dogs what dat Gaither boy got. When it come ter ’possum an’ coon dey er de outdoin’est dogs you ever is lay yo’ eyes on.”
“I can get the dogs any time,” said Joe.
“Well, suh,” said Harbert with enthusiasm, “atter to-night you can’t git um too soon.”