“Done what?” sez I.
“Don’t ask me!” sez he, a-shudderin’ visibly; “it is nothin’ you want to know.”
But his words made me more and more determined to know the worst, as wuz nateral they should. And finally he said in a surly, cross way—
“Wall, if you must know, I’ve been into a woman’s room.”
“Been into a woman’s room!” sez I coldly; “what did you want in a woman’s room?”
“I didn’t want nothin’—Heaven knows I didn’t, only to git out agin.”
“Who wuz it?” sez I in stern axents.
“I d’no—she wuz a perfect stranger to me,” sez he, with his face still hid in his hand.
“Wuz she good-lookin’?” sez I in the same stern tones. I hain’t a mite jealous, as is well known, but I felt that I wanted to know the worst.
“Don’t ask me,” sez he; and he continued fiercely, “What business has a woman to be up a-ondressin’ herself at this time of night? Why wuzn’t she to bed and covered up?”