There was, I thought, the suspicion of a twinkle lurking in the corners of his eyes throughout his talk, but it was too obscure for me to venture to interpret it by a responsive smile, and so the question was put with entire seriousness when I said:
"And yet, Jordan, didn't I hear something of your going to an oculist last summer?"
"Yas, sir. So I did. Dat's true." He laughed foolishly now.
"I did talk about goin' ter one o' deze heah occular-eye doctors las' summer, and I went once-t, but I ain't nuver tol' nobody, an' you mustn't say nothin' 'bout it, please, sir.
"But yer see, sir." He lowered his voice here to a confidential whisper. "Yer see dat was on account o' de ladies. I was a widder-man den, an', tell de trufe, my mixed glances was gettin' me in trouble. Yer know in dealin' wid de ladies, yer don' keer how many glances you got, yer wants ter use 'em one at a time. Why dey was a yaller lady up heah at de crossroads wha' 'blongs ter my church who come purty nigh ter suein' me in de co't-house, all on account o' one o' my side glances, an' all de time, yer see, my reel glance, hit was settled on Mis' White, wha' sot in de middle pew—but in cose she warn't Mis' White den; she was de Widder Simpson."
"And so you have been recently married," I asked; "and how does your wife feel about the matter?
"Well, yer see, sir," he answered, laughing, "she can't say nothin', 'caze she's cross-eyed 'erse'f.
"An' lemme tell you some'h'n', boss." He lowered his tone again, implying a fresh burst of confidence, while his whole visage seemed twinkling with merriment.
"Lemme tell yer some'h'n', boss. You ain't a ma'ied man, is yer?"
I assured him that I was not married.