“Did you like her?” I asked.
“You have good to talk, the same thing is to me,” said Shorty, and there was a sob in his voice.
Then he went on to tell how the mother took care of the three hundred dollars; how they, Shorty and the girl, signed a paper; this made them man and wife, he explained, and then they celebrated—“Maka th’ congratulate.”
Then came the tragedy. “It was one o’clock after twelve—I feel awfully worse—I don’t know what isn’t—I want my wife,” explained Shorty.
“You must be drink,” said the mother.
“Why don’t you say what you are telling about?” cried the father.
“I want de mon!” demanded Shorty.
“Lie business!” screamed the father.
“Throw away! No believe!” said the friends.
Shorty was trembling as he went on with the story.