"Ur—yes'm—in her will. But I got ter go an' sign de will an' dat'll cost me fifty cents."
"That's a peculiar sort of law."
"Yas'm. I didn't like dat law myse'f an' I told 'em ter 'peal it, but da wouldn't."
"Well," she said, arising and starting toward the house, "as you are so honest and industrious, I'll get it for you."
He looked after her and mused. "No matter whar er 'oman is when you ax her fur money, she got ter go some whar else ter git it. Huh, but deze innercent ladies is de sort dat suits me. I doan like deze ladies dat doan blebe nuthin' you say."
Mrs. Mayfield came out of the house. "Here it is," she said, giving him a piece of silver.
"Thankee, ma'm. I's gwine pray fur you de fust chance I gits, an' it won't be long now dat my rush is sorter ober fo' I does git er chance. But ef you'll jest gib me er quarter mo' I'll leave off ever'thin' an' pray fur you right now."
"No, that's enough."
"Doan blebe much in pra'r, does you? Wall, I hatter make dis do."
Mrs. Mayfield stood at the gap, gazing down the road, and the old negro remarked to himself: "Dat's de way er lady looks w'en she's expectin' er man. Things is er gwine on roun' dis place. Dar ain't been all dis light steppin' fur nuthin'. Wush I could go somewhar an' pick me up er chunk o' er wife. It's er gittin' erbout time fur me ter marry ag'in."