Presently, before anyone had time to deny his sweeping assertion, he resumed:
"Mis' M'coy, yu' know dem taters I got frum you tuther night?"
"I rember them quite well, Mr. Thurman," she replied, resignedly.
"I took them taters home 'n' put 'm in muh trunk, locked it 'n' put th' key in muh pocket 's I allus do. Now what yu' think happened?" he halted, and surveyed the atmosphere with serene contempt. "That low down li'l' nigga in th' room wi' me, sneaks int' that trunk wid a duplicate key, 'n' steal eve' last one'm! Jes' think of it!" he emphasized, with a terrible gesture. "Stole eve' las' one uv'm! Then talk about nigga's!"
"We did'n' say nothin' 'bout nigga's would'n' steal, man!" complained Ferguson. "You jes' nache'lly went offa yo' noodle widout 'casion."
During all this conversation, a girl sat opposite Sidney. She was a dark, sweet-faced maiden, with an expression that was inviting. Sidney, happening to glance for the first time into her face, smiled and nodded. She smiled back pleasantly. Ferguson and Thurman continued their harrangue.
"They are a pair," ventured Sidney, to no one in particular, but the girl smiled and inquired:
"Who are they?"
"I never saw them before," he replied.
She observed him closely, and said presently, in a very demure voice: