“Madam,” he said amiably, “I must deny the gentle insinuation. I never saw your husband, nor Persimmon Pete.”
“You deny it?” she shrieked.
“Certainly. I am compelled to doubt your word.”
“And you never seen my man?”
“I assure you that I never had that pleasure. What is his name?”
“If you’re goin’ to start in by lyin’, it don’t make no difference what his name is!” she declared.
“It might help in his identification,” he suggested.
“Well, then, it’s Nicholas Nomad.” She faced toward the snickering crowd. “Now laugh!” she yelled. “It’s his name, and it fits him; fer if he ain’t about next to no man I dunno it. Think of him leavin’ me in the suds there in——”
“Was ye washin’?” some one yelled.
“Well, yes, I was, though how you know it I can’t guess. I was washin’ that day fer Mrs. McGinniss and her six children, and so I had to stay at home and couldn’t watch him. He took advantage of it and skun out. But I’ll git him yit, and when I do——” She shook her red fist at the crowd.