“Oh, yes,” retorted Miss Martha, good-naturedly, “I reckon you was one o’ dem gent’mans dat was settin’ up at de schoolteachah’s house.”
“I fu’ one was callin’ on Miss Callena. Hit’s only propah when a strange lady come to town fu’ de gent’men to call an’ pay deir ’spects.”
“I reckon hit ain’t propah fu’ de gent’mans to tek none o’ de ladies to call.”
“I ain’t ’scussin’ dat,” said Mr. Taft, with some acerbity.
“Of co’se you ain’t. Well, hit ain’t none o’ my bus’ness, to be sho. I ain’t thinkin’ nothin’ ’bout myse’f or none o’ de things you been sayin’ to me. But all I got to say is, you bettah leave Miss Callena, as you call huh, alone, ’cause evahbody say ol’ man Dunkin got his eyes sot on huh, an’ he gwine to win. Dey do say, too, dat he outsot you all, Sunday.”
Nothing could have hurt Alonzo Taft’s pride more than this, or more thoroughly aroused his dignity.
“Ef I wanted Miss Callena Johnson,” he said, “I wouldn’t stan’ back fu’ nobody like ol’ man Dunkin.”
“I reckon you wouldn’t, but you might set in an’ git jes’ nachully sot back;” and Martha laughed maliciously.
“I ain’t boastin’ ’bout what I could do ef I had a min’ to, but I ’low ef I wan’ed to set my cap fu’ any young lady, I wouldn’t be feared o’ no ol’ man dat don’t know nothin’ but hogs an’ chickens.”
“Nevah min’! Dem hogs an’ chickens fetches money, an’ dat’s what yo’ fine city ladies wants, an’ don’t you fu’git it.”