'Wall, stranger, I reckon I'm the 'ooman, Thet ar feller's my husband, an' he karn't git off 'cept I git a hundred dollars.'
'Will you give a bill of sale, releasing all your right, title, and interest in him to me, if I pay you a hundred dollars?'
'Yes, I wull—ter ye, or ter ony-body.'
'Wall, now,' continued Gaston, imitating her tone, 'karn't yo take a trifle less'n thet—eighty or so?'
'No, stranger, nary dime under thet. I'm gol-durned ef I does.'
'Well, Mulock, what do you say? Are you willing to be sold?'
'I haint willin' ter be laff'd at by ye, nor nobody else,' replied Mulock, rising, and turning fiercely on the planter. 'I'll larrup the d——d 'ooman ony how, and ye, too, ef ye say much more.'
'Come, Mulock,' said the young man, coolly, but firmly, 'be civil, or I'll let daylight through you before you're a minute older. I'm disposed to do you a good turn, but you must be civil, by——.'
'Wall, do as ye likes, Gus; onything'll suit me,' replied Mulock, resuming his previous position.
'But, d—— you, if I spend a hundred on you, you must go to work like a man, and try to pay it. I wouldn't do it anyhow, if it warn't for Phylly.'