"Say, honey, wait a minute—jes a minute, won't ye?" The milkmaid kept straight ahead, and Bob's honeyed words soured suddenly.
"Go on, gal, think yo'self mighty fine, don't ye? Nem' min'!"
Molly's nostrils swelled to their full width, and, at the top of her voice, she began again.
"Go on, nigger, but you jes wait."
Molly sang on:
"Take up yo' cross, oh, sinner-man."
Before he knew it, Bob gave the response with great unction:
"Yes, Lawd."
Then he stopped short.
"I reckon I got to break dat gal's head some day. Yessuh; she knows whut my cross is," and then he started slowly after her, shaking his head and, as his wont was, talking to himself.