“Nob-um.”
“Atter we stan’ up dar befo’ Marse John Durham en say des what all dem white folks say?”
“Nob-um.”
Eve slowly took her seat and gazed down the road thoughtfully.
“I t’ink I drap eroun’ ter see you en gin you er chance wid de odder gals fo’ I steps off,” explained Nelse with a grin.
No answer.
“You ’member dat night I say sumfin’ ’bout er gal I know once, en you riz en grab er poun’ er wool outen my head fo’ I kin move?”
No answer yet.
“Min’ dat time, you bust de biscuit bode ober my head, en lam me wid de fire-shovel, en hit me in de burr er de year wid er flatiron es I wuz makin’ fur de do’?”
“Yas, I min’s dat sho!” said Eve with evident satisfaction.