"You shouldn't have come home disturbing everybody like this," said the Mis', and seemed hurt. This had effect on Legs, who was always considerate of the ladies.
"I'm sorry for you, Mis'; but I've had it in for this hunk a meat, ever since he got me out of bed to lose my last dollar." He emphasized the remark by another bumping.
"I'm a poor widow woman without protection, and you are ruining the only way I have of making a living." That was enough. He forgot John Moore for a second, and the next moment that worthy was locked in an adjoining room. Here he went into a tirade. Legs forgot the Mis' now and sought him, but the door was locked and bolted.
"Git yo things 'n' go nigga!" he cried boldly now, from his safe retreat.
"If you had called, or knocked, I would have come and opened the door, as I always do. There was no call for all this!" remonstrated the Mis'.
"Don't lock me out, don't lock me out!" Legs raged.
"Git yo things and go, dy'e hear," from the retreat. Legs now became angry with the Mis'.
"Gimme a dollar Mis' and I'll go. If that thing in the other woom there is running this place, I don't want to stay."
"Git yo things 'n' go!"
"Gimme a dollar!"