"Well, suppose you get married?" suggested father, brilliantly. "That will unite your interests, you know."
Aunt Anniky tossed her head. Uncle Ned was old, wizened, wrinkled as a raisin, but he eyed Anniky over with a supercilious gaze, and said with dignity: "Ef I wanted ter marry, I could git a likely young gal."
All the four points of Anniky's turban shook with indignation. "Pay me fur dem chany teef!" she hissed.
Some visitors interrupted the dispute at this time, and the two old darkies went away.
A week later Uncle Ned appeared with rather a sheepish look.
"Well, Mars' Charles," he said, "I's about concluded dat I'll marry Anniky."
"Ah! is that so?"
"'Pears like it's de onliest way I kin save my pigs," said Uncle Ned, with a sigh. "When she's married she boun' ter 'bey me. Women 'bey your husbands; dat's what de good Book says."
"Yes, she will bay you, I don't doubt," said my father, making a pun that Uncle Ned could not appreciate.
"An' ef ever she opens her jaw ter me 'bout dem ar teef," he went on, "I'll mash her."