“Dat’s all right. Don’t you ever forgit it ag’in, if you knows what’s good for you. Now den, you has said you wouldn’t ever call it lies en moonshine ag’in. I’ll tell you dis, for a warnin’: if you ever does say it ag’in, it’s de las’ time you’ll ever say it to me; I’ll tramp as straight to de Judge as I kin walk, en tell him who you is, en prove it. Does you b’lieve me when I says dat?”
“Oh,” groaned Tom, “I more than believe it; I know it.”
Roxy knew her conquest was complete. She could have proved nothing to anybody, and her threat about the writings was a lie; but she knew the person she was dealing with, and had made both statements without any doubt as to the effect they would produce.
She went and sat down on her candle-box, and the pride and pomp of her victorious attitude made it a throne. She said—
“Now den, Chambers, we’s gwine to talk business, en dey ain’t gwine to be no mo’ foolishness. In de fust place, you gits fifty dollahs a month; you’s gwine to han’ over half of it to yo’ ma. Plank it out!”
But Tom had only six dollars in the world. He gave her that, and promised to start fair on next month’s pension.
“Chambers, how much is you in debt?”
Tom shuddered, and said—
“Nearly three hundred dollars.”
“How is you gwine to pay it?”