I was about to say I had none, when Preston handed her a paper of 'Richmond Sweet.' Without pausing to thank him, she coolly stuffed nearly a half of it into her mouth. My companion did not seem at all surprised, but I remarked:
'You do not smoke, then, madam?'
'Oh! yas, I smokes; but I durned sight d'ruther chaw.'
'Let me give you a segar,' I said, taking one from my pocket, and slyly winking at Preston.
'I never smokes them sort o' things; I takes nat'rally ter pipes—did when I'se a gal,' she replied, ejecting a mouthful of saliva of the same color as her skin.
'This gentleman,' said the Squire, smiling, 'isn't fully up to our ways. He thinks it queer that women chew tobacco.'
'Quar thet wimmin chaws! Han't the' as much right ter as ye? I reckon what's good fur th' gander'll do fur th' goose!
'Good logic, that,' said Preston, laughing heartily.
The woman kept on expectorating for a time, when she again spoke to my companion:
'I say! ye b'long ter Newbern, doan't ye?'