“Seen anythin’ of th’ stage, Sig?”
Sig tells him about th’ smash-up and then goes in and drapes himself over th’ bar. Ricky Henderson is there and they crooks elbows numerous.
“Where’s Ren?” asks Ricky. “I ain’t seen him since Saturday. Him and that Rosalind person is thicker than axle grease in January. Been out ridin’ every day last week. I thought you had aspirations thataway, Sig.’”
“Not me, Ricky. Yore uncle Siggie knows when he’s safe. I’m goin’ over to congratulate th’ bride, and then I’m goin’ to come back and fill my hide with some more absent-minded juice. So long.”
He ambles across th’ street to th’ restaurant and finds Miss Matilda tellin’ th’ Chink what to have fer supper.
“Howdy,” says Sig. “I reckon I can congratulate you on yore marriage to Buck.”
Matilda blushes through her whiskers and smooths her skirt.
“Thanks, Sigismund. I had hopes that you and Rosalind could stand up with us, but she’s in Curlew and won’t be back. I’ll have to git Miss Harris. Would you like to stand up with her?”
“Ma’am,” says Sig, “while I admires such functions uh heap, I’d uh lot rather jist sit on th’ bench and watch ’em. Rosalind is uh real nice girl, I reckon, but her and me ain’t——”
Miss Beebee pats Sig on th’ shoulder in uh motherly way.