“Now, David, you are trying to mystify me. I believe there’s a streak of perversity in you after all.”
“Of course there is; and here comes Mandy to say that ‘suppa’s gittin’ cole.’ ”
“Aunt B’lindy ’low suppa on de table gittin’ cole,” said Mandy, retreating at once from the fire of their merriment.
Thérèse arose and held her two hands out to her husband.
He took them but did not rise; only leaned further back on the seat and looked up at her.
“Oh, supper’s a bore; don’t you think so?” he asked.
“No, I don’t,” she replied. “I’m hungry, and so are you. Come, David.”
“But look, Thérèse, just when the moon has climbed over the top of that live-oak? We can’t go now. And then Melicent’s request; we must think about that.”
“Oh, surely not, David,” she said, drawing back.
“Then let me tell you something,” and he drew her head down and whispered something in her pink ear that he just brushed with his lips. It made Thérèse laugh and turn very rosy in the moonlight.