Rog. Well, there’ll be a dead nigger if they do it agin.
Mrs. R. Jim, you mustn’t talk that way. We can’t blame ’em. We don’t know how to act, I guess.
Rog. No, Mollie, I reckon we aint in it.
Mrs. R. Let’s go back home!
Rog. All right. Vance is tired of it, too.
Mrs. R. Vance tired? Why, he knows how to act. He’s been with the best.
Rog. He’s sick of it. Goin’ to Europe or some’ers.
Mrs. R. Poor Vance! I’m awful sorry. D’ye s’pose he’ll ever git over that shootin’ of her brother.
Rog. No! Say, Mollie (confidentially), I s’pose I oughtn’t to tell. He asked me not to, but that’s why he’s goin’ so sudden. He’s so restless, he can’t stay in one place.
Mrs. R. I’m awful sorry fur Vance.