"It is the document of our marriage," says the Baron, makin' a bold bluff.
"Oh, is it?" says she, openin' the thing up, and reading it off. "Why, Baron, this doesn't give you leave to marry anyone," says Sadie; "this is a peddler's license, and here's the badge, too. If you wear this you can stand on the corner and sell shoe-laces and collar-buttons. I'd advise you to go do it."
It was while the crowd was howlin' and pinnin' the fakir's tag on him that he began to froth at the mouth and tell how he was comin' down to make mincemeat of me.
"That's why we followed him," says Pinckney—"to avert bloodshed."
"If he had so much as touched you, Shorty," says Sadie, "I would have spent my pile to have had him sent up for life."
"Oh, it wouldn't have cost that much," says I. "With me thinkin' the way I did then, maybe there wouldn't have been a whole lot left to send."
Ah, look away! I ain't tellin' what Sadie did next. But say, she's a hummin'-bird, Sadie is.