Billy squinted the corner of one eye and looked solemnly at the husband: “He ha'f ten drinks in him ag'in, already. I vill gif you pay for eet all for the child. An' here ees one dollar mo' from Billy Buch. Now go, goot voman.”
The other interruption was the redoubtable Mrs. Billings; her brother, also a slubber, had arrived early, but had scarcely taken two delightful, exquisite drinks before she came on the scene, her eyes flashing, her hair disheveled, and her hand playing familiarly with something under her apron.
Her presence threw them into a panic.
“Mine Gott!” said Billy, turning pale. “Eet es Meeses Billings an' her crockery.”
Half a dozen jubilants pointed out a long-haired man at a center table talking proudly of his physical strength and bravery.
“Cris Ham?” beckoned Mrs. Billings, feeling nervously under her apron. “Come with me!”
“I'll be along t'orectly, sis.”
“You will come now,” she said, and her hands began to move ominously beneath her apron.
“To be sho',” he said as he walked out with her. “I didn't know you felt that away about it, sis.”
It was after ten o'clock when the quick roll of a buggy came up to the door, and Richard Travis and Charley Biggers alighted.