“And now you're goin' right on an' lettin' him have all your cerridges, and you'll be wantin' me to help clean the seats, too, I'll warrant, and you're agoin' to hire into the bargain, with him owin' you and owin' everybody else in town.”
“Now, Dilly, I didn't say I was agoin' to,” protested Rawdy.
“An' me needin' a new dress, and 'ain't had one to my back for two years, and them Carroll women in a different one every time they appear out, and the girl having enough clothes for a Vanderbilt. I guess Stella Griggs will rue the day. She's a fool, and always was. If you can afford to give that man money you can afford to get me a new dress. I'd go to the weddin'—it's free, in the church—if I had anything decent to wear.”
“Now, Dilly, what can I do? I leave it to you,” asked Samson Rawdy, with confessed helplessness.
“Do?” said she. “Why, tell him he's got to pay ahead or he can't have the cerridges. If you're afraid to, I'll ask him. I ain't afraid.”
“Lord! I ain't afraid, Dilly,” said Rawdy.
“You'd better clean up, after supper, an' go up there and tell him,” said Dilly Rawdy, mercilessly.
In the end Rawdy obeyed, having shaved and washed, and set forth. When he returned he was jubilant.
“He's a gentleman, I don't care what they say,” said he, “and he treated me like a gentleman. Gave me a cigar, and asked me to sit down. He was smokin', himself, out on the porch. The women folks were in the house.
“Did he pay you?” asked Mrs. Rawdy.