Said the husband: “Y'allus say dat. Fergit it, Maw, you're all right now, you don't have to have your hair frizzed fer six mont's!”
Said Mrs. T-S: “I gotta lie down. I'm dyin', Abey, I tell you. Lemme git on de sofa.”
Said the husband: “Now, Maw, we gotta git to dinner—”
“I can't eat no dinner.”
“Vot?” There was genuine alarm in the husband's voice. “You can't eat no dinner? Sure you gotta eat your dinner. You can't live if you don't eat. Come along now, Maw.”
“O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!”
T-S went and stood before her, and a grin came over his face. “Sure, now, ain't it fine? Say, Mary, look at dem lovely curves. Billy, shoost look here! Vy, she looks like a kid again, don't she! Madame, you're a daisy—you sure deliver de goods.”
Madame Planchet beamed, and the flesh-mountain was feebly cheered. “You like it, Abey?”
“Sure, I like it! Maw, it's grand! It's like I got a new girl! Come on now, git up, we go git our dinner, and den we gotta see dem night scenes took. Don't forgit, we're payin' two tousand men five dollars apiece tonight, and we gotta git our money out of 'em.” Then, taking for granted that this settled it, he turned to the rest. “You come vit us, Mary?”
“I must wait for my grannie.”