“I ain’t fully minded to tell you, Joe. But Susie’s a masterful woman, and don’t you let her get you into trouble. If it’s money, my man and me we’ve got a little put by. I’d a heap rather spend a bit of it than see you tormented into some wickedness.”
“You must think I’m right bad, Dory. Can’t you talk out?”
“No; I might, but I won’t. Only you remember, Joe, I didn’t say you were bad, but I do say anybody you care for might p’int you wrong. It’s a queer thing how easy men can be p’inted.”
He was terribly scared, and, seeing that no more was to be had out of Dory, resolved to profit by her warning. How she could have guessed anything of his or his wife’s intentions he was at a loss to comprehend. But he was timid, and eager to steer clear of trouble. After a few moments of silent consideration, he spoke:
“It ain’t always easy to keep straight. Guess I’m p’inted now, like Hiram,” and he grinned. “I don’t drink none neither, not now.”
“Stick to that and keep your mouth shut, or it may be worse for you—and for Susie, too,” she added.
“I will. Don’t you be afraid.”
“And what fetched you, Joe?”
“I was minded to set a nice clean board over them boys. I was a-tellin’ you that. And I can’t read none nor write. But if you was to write big on a paper just what a man might want to set on a board like I was a-talkin’ of, guess I could copy it plain enough.”
Dorothy considered. “Can you wait? It’ll be quite a time.”