counts.”
He patted his necktie as he spoke and brushed his moustache with his finger tips, sensitively.
“Sure,” said the girl. “Anything that’s comfortable is right, I guess. The dogs under the table wouldn’t be comfortable if
they had to go sashayin’ around among broadcloth trousers. Neither would the cats.”
“Suppose,” said the father, “that you wanted to go and set on the corral fence and look at a hoss— would fancy trousers be
any good for that?”
“They wouldn’t,” she answered. “They’s just get all full of splinters.”
“Or suppose that you got tired of walkin’ and wanted to rest, would you go and set down on the ground in fancy pants?”
“No, sir, you most certainly wouldn’t.”
“Which you’re laughin’ at me the same,” said he. “Speakin’ of dogs, where’s that brindle hound? I ain’t seen him yet this
mornin’.”
“He’s on the foot of your bed, most like,” she answered. “You must of throwed the covers over him when you got up.”
“I reckon I did,” said he. “Mose, go upstairs and see if you can find me that wo’thless Major dog, will you?”
Mose disappeared.
“You look fair to middlin’ miserable,” observed Mr. Dangerfield. “Help yourself to some of that corn bread and pass it to
me. It’s cold! I’m gunna kill me a nigger out yonder in the kitchen, one of these days, if you don’t bring ’em to time pretty
quick!”
“How can I bring ’em to time?” asked the girl. “I’ve fired that good-for-nothin’ Elijah six times, and you always take him
back again!”
“In this family,” said Dangerfield, “niggers ain’t fired, I thank God!”
“Then don’t you raise a ruction because you got indigestion. You can thank God for that, too!”
“It ain’t the men in the kitchen, it’s the women there that makes the trouble. I’ve fired that useless Maria, too,” declared
Charlotte, “but bless my soul if she don’t start howlin’ like a dog at the moon. Last time, she set outside my door three
hours and give me nightmares with her carryin’s on.”
“You oughta cut down their pay,” said Dangerfield. “I never seen anything like the way you throwmoney away on them niggers, the wo’thless good-for-nothin’s!”
“Why, how you carry on!” said his daughter. “What diff’ence does it make to them, the money? Didn’t they all keep on workin’
all them years when they didn’t get nothin’ at all for pay?”
“Money is no good for niggers,” said Dangerfield. “Money and votes ain’t no good for them. Pass me some of that fish. They
ain’t hardly a thing on this table fit to pass a man’s lips!”
“You’ve got a sight particular,” said she, “since you’ve blundered into a few pennies; I seen the day many a time when we
was glad to have just the corn bread on the breakfast table, without no eggs, nor ham, nor fish, nor milk, nor coffee neither.”
“It ain’t true!” said the father. “They never was a time, even when my fortune ebbed its lowest, when I didn’t have coffee
on my table.”
“Yeah,” drawled Charlotte. “But it was second and third boilin’ most of the time, and I had to flavor it up with molasses
to make it taste like something at all!”
“You gotta disposition,” said her father, “like a handful of tacks. You got the nacheral sweetness of a tangle of barbed wire,
Charlie. I ain’t gunna talk to you no more this mornin’.”
“Which I never asked you to,” said she.
“Why don’t you run along and leave me to finish my breakfast, then?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have nothin’ but niggers to bother,” she replied, her chin in her hand.
“Charlie, if you’re gunna be so downhearted about it, why don’t you go and take him back, then?”
“There ain’t anything to take back,” said she. “He’s only a handful of bubbles.”
“Then why for are you sorrowin’ so much?” he asked.
“Because I’ve lost my
He patted his necktie as he spoke and brushed his moustache with his finger tips, sensitively.
“Sure,” said the girl. “Anything that’s comfortable is right, I guess. The dogs under the table wouldn’t be comfortable if
they had to go sashayin’ around among broadcloth trousers. Neither would the cats.”
“Suppose,” said the father, “that you wanted to go and set on the corral fence and look at a hoss— would fancy trousers be
any good for that?”
“They wouldn’t,” she answered. “They’s just get all full of splinters.”
“Or suppose that you got tired of walkin’ and wanted to rest, would you go and set down on the ground in fancy pants?”
“No, sir, you most certainly wouldn’t.”
“Which you’re laughin’ at me the same,” said he. “Speakin’ of dogs, where’s that brindle hound? I ain’t seen him yet this
mornin’.”
“He’s on the foot of your bed, most like,” she answered. “You must of throwed the covers over him when you got up.”
“I reckon I did,” said he. “Mose, go upstairs and see if you can find me that wo’thless Major dog, will you?”
Mose disappeared.
“You look fair to middlin’ miserable,” observed Mr. Dangerfield. “Help yourself to some of that corn bread and pass it to
me. It’s cold! I’m gunna kill me a nigger out yonder in the kitchen, one of these days, if you don’t bring ’em to time pretty
quick!”
“How can I bring ’em to time?” asked the girl. “I’ve fired that good-for-nothin’ Elijah six times, and you always take him
back again!”
“In this family,” said Dangerfield, “niggers ain’t fired, I thank God!”
“Then don’t you raise a ruction because you got indigestion. You can thank God for that, too!”
“It ain’t the men in the kitchen, it’s the women there that makes the trouble. I’ve fired that useless Maria, too,” declared
Charlotte, “but bless my soul if she don’t start howlin’ like a dog at the moon. Last time, she set outside my door three
hours and give me nightmares with her carryin’s on.”
“You oughta cut down their pay,” said Dangerfield. “I never seen anything like the way you throwmoney away on them niggers, the wo’thless good-for-nothin’s!”
“Why, how you carry on!” said his daughter. “What diff’ence does it make to them, the money? Didn’t they all keep on workin’
all them years when they didn’t get nothin’ at all for pay?”
“Money is no good for niggers,” said Dangerfield. “Money and votes ain’t no good for them. Pass me some of that fish. They
ain’t hardly a thing on this table fit to pass a man’s lips!”
“You’ve got a sight particular,” said she, “since you’ve blundered into a few pennies; I seen the day many a time when we
was glad to have just the corn bread on the breakfast table, without no eggs, nor ham, nor fish, nor milk, nor coffee neither.”
“It ain’t true!” said the father. “They never was a time, even when my fortune ebbed its lowest, when I didn’t have coffee
on my table.”
“Yeah,” drawled Charlotte. “But it was second and third boilin’ most of the time, and I had to flavor it up with molasses
to make it taste like something at all!”
“You gotta disposition,” said her father, “like a handful of tacks. You got the nacheral sweetness of a tangle of barbed wire,
Charlie. I ain’t gunna talk to you no more this mornin’.”
“Which I never asked you to,” said she.
“Why don’t you run along and leave me to finish my breakfast, then?”
“Because then I wouldn’t have nothin’ but niggers to bother,” she replied, her chin in her hand.
“Charlie, if you’re gunna be so downhearted about it, why don’t you go and take him back, then?”
“There ain’t anything to take back,” said she. “He’s only a handful of bubbles.”
“Then why for are you sorrowin’ so much?” he asked.
“Because I’ve lost my
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