“My dear Sir, I don’t even know your name.”
“Suggs, Sir—Captain Simon Suggs.”
“Well, my dear Captain, ef you’ll just let me off this time, I’ll lend you the fifty dollars.”
“You’ll—lend—me—the—fifty—dollars! Who asked you for your money, or rather Sally’s money?”
“I only thought,” replied the humble husband of Sally, “that it might be an accommodation. I meant no harm; I know Sally wouldn’t mind my lending it to an old friend of the family.”
“Well,” said Suggs, and here he mused, shutting his eyes, biting his lips, and talking very slowly, “ef I knowed you would do better.”
“I’ll swear I will,” said Pullum.
“No swearin’, Sir!” roared Suggs, with a dreadful frown; “no swearin’ in my presence!”
“No, Sir, I won’t any more.”
“Ef,” continued the Captain, “I knowed you’d do better—go right home,” (the Captain didn’t wish Pullum to stay where his stock of information might be increased); “and treat Sally like a wife all the rest of your days, I might, may be, borrow the fifty, (seein’ it’s Sally’s any way), and let you off this time.”