"'Hyah's a nice hot fried cake fo' you, honey,' she says.
"'This ain't no fried cake,' I says. 'This is a doughnut.'
"'You ain' tryin' to tell me what a fried cake is, is you?' she says.
"'Aunt Liza,' I says to her while I'm eatin' the doughnut, 'I sees Mr. Jack Dillon after he's been here, 'n' he acts like he'd had a bad time. Did you take a poker to him, too?'
"'No, sah,' she says. 'Miss Sally tended to his case.'
"'It's too bad she don't like him,' I says.
"'Who say she doan' like him?' says Liza. 'He come a sto'min' round hyah like he gwine to pull de whole place up by de roots an' transport hit ovah Lexington way. Fust he's boun' fo' to take dat hoss what's done win all dem good dollahs. Den his min' flit f'om dat to Miss Sally, an' he's aimin' to cyar her off like she was a 'lasses bar'l or a yahd ob calico. Who is dem Dillons, anyway? De Goodloes owned big lan' right hyar in Franklin County when de Dillons ain' nothin' but Yankee trash back in Maine or some other outlan'ish place! Co'se we sends him 'bout his bisniss—him an' his money! Ef he comes roun' hyar, now we's rich again, an' sings small fo' a while. Miss Sally mighty likely to listen to what he got to say—she so kindly dat a-way.'
"At the depot in Goodloe that night I writes a wire to Jack Dillon. 'If you still want Salvation better come to Goodloe,' is what the wire says. I signs it 'n' sends it 'n' takes the train fur New Awlins.
"The colt ruptures a tendon not long after that, so he never races no more, 'n' I ain't never been to Goodloe since."
Blister yawned, lay back on the grass and pulled his hat over his face.