"Stop scatterin' dem shavin's all over de floor, Plaster," Pearline
commanded. "Ef folks comes to see us, I don't want dis house all
literated up wid trash."
"I got to whittle while you sews, honey," Plaster said patiently. "I
wanted to sot out in the yard, but you kep' me in de house all yistiddy
afternoon because you said you had de headache from de glare."
"You kin whittle 'thout messin' up dis room," Pearline snapped.
"I likes a messy room," the man declared. "It looks like folks lived in
it an' wus tol'able comfer'ble."
"You cain't mess up my house ef I got to come atter you an' clean up,"
the woman replied in a tone of finality.
A hound-dog stuck his wistful face into the door, seeking an invitation
to enter.
"Dar's a frien' in need," the bridegroom proclaimed happily. "Come here,
dawg!"
"Git out o' here!" the woman shrieked, kicking at the hound and sending
him out with a howl. "I don't want dat houn' in dis house scratchin' his
fleas all over de rooms. Look at de mud dat dawg tracked in. Come wadin'
through de bayou an' den come trackin' through de house!"
"Dar's some advantages in livin' a dawg's life, Pearline," Plaster
sighed. "Even excusin' de fleas, dar's plenty advantage. A dawg, even a
married dawg, he ain't tied up all de time an' kin run aroun' some."
"You aims to say you's gittin' tired stayin' here wid me?" Pearline
snapped.
"No'm. Nothin' like dat. I's happy as a mosquiter on a pickaninny's
nose."
"Ef you feels tied up like a houn'-dawg in de middle of de secont day,
how does you expeck to feel in de middle of de secont year?"
Plaster thought it best not to venture a reply. He looked through the
open door at the hound, lying under the china-berry tree in the glare,
placidly scratching fleas, bumping the elbow of his hind leg on the soft
ground as he scratched.
"Don't you never answer no 'terrogations when I axes you?" Pearline
asked sharply. "How you gwine feel in de middle of de secont year?"
Out of sheer perversity Plaster was disposed to tell her that he would
feel dead and buried for at least a year before the time she mentioned,
but instead he swallowed hard three times. His throat was dry and his
tongue rasped his mouth like sandpaper. His answer, finally, was a song:
"She'll be sweeter as de days go by;
She'll git sweeter as de moments fly;
She'll git sweeter an' be dearer
As to me she draws mo' nearer--
Sweeter as de days go by."
Thereupon Pearline jumped from her chair, got strangle-hold upon her
husband, sat down on him, and impressed him forcibly in the next
half-hour that his wife was a heavyweight and the day was extremely
warm.
Plaster made such a hit with his improvised song that he repeated it
three times, then gradually eased his wife off his lap and onto a chair.
"Don't you never shave yo' face, Plaster?" the lady asked when the love
scene ended. "You feels like a stubby shoe-brush."
"No'm, my whiskers don't pester me none."
"But dey looks so bad," the woman urged.
"I cain't see 'em," Plaster grinned.
"I wants you to shave eve'y day while you is married to me."
"Huh," Plaster grunted.
"An I wants you to brush up yo' clothes, Plaster," the woman told him.
"You looks scandalous dusty."
"I looks as good as you does," Plaster retorted. "I's got powdered dirt
on my clothes an' you's got powdered chalk on yo' nose. You looks to
dang dressy fer me anyhow. I favors bein' dusty an' easy-feelin'."
The discussion ended by the appearance of three women who came to the
open door from the highroad.
"Look at dat, now!" Plaster exclaimed. "Here comes three ole gals of
mine. I co'ted 'em all servigerous but it didn't git me nothin'."
"Whut dey buttin' in here fer?" Pearline asked in sharp tones.
"Mebbe dey'll tell us when dey comes in," Plaster chuckled.
The three women were the wives of Hitch Diamond, Figger Bush, and
Vinegar Atts. When they entered they came straight to the point.
"Plaster, us ladies wants to talk to Sister Pearline Flunder Sickety in
privut."
"Dat cain't be did, sisters," Plaster answered, looking them over
suspiciously. "Whut does you want to tell my wife in privut?"
"Dat's a secret," Scootie Bush giggled.
Plaster looked at the women with an earnest effort to read their
intentions. He recalled certain incidents in his association with the
three in the old days of happy courtship that he preferred his wife
should not know. He thought he saw mischief in the eyes of each of the
women, especially Scootie and Goldie, and he shook his head.
"Nothin' ain't told in privut, sisters," he announced. "Leastwise, not
till after de third day."
"Does you aim to say dat I cain't conversation in privut wid my
frien's?" Pearline snapped.
"No'm not perzackly dat," Plaster hastened to explain. "But it looks
kinder onpossible to me as long as I'm tied up wid you on dis chain."
"Git over again dat wall while dese ladies whispers to me," Pearline
replied, giving him a push.
Plaster sat down and strained his ears to hear. What he heard was
spasmodic giggles. He saw mischievous glances directed to himself. Once
he saw his wife look straight at him reproachfully, as if she suspected
that he was trying to overhear. There was half an hour of this, then the
three giggling women took their departure.
"Whut did dem nigger women want, Pearline?" Plaster demanded.
"Dat's a fambly secret," Pearline giggled.
"Does you think you oughter hab any secrets from yo' cote-house
husbunt?" Plaster demanded belligerently.
"Naw, suh. Not no secrets dat stays secrets, but dis here little myst'ry
will git public powerful soon."
Coming through the medium of Plaster's troubled conscience, this answer
sounded ominous. Pearline picked up some sewing and Plaster reached for
his unwhittled stick. He spent one half-hour in deep thought. He was
sorry he had told Pearline that those three women were old sweethearts
of his. He recalled that his courtship of each woman had broken up in a
row and a fist-fight. It had been one-sided, the women conducting the
row and doing all the fighting while Plaster endeavored to escape. Now
Plaster had no other idea than that they were hot on his trail. They
were planning to make his life miserable through the jealousy of his
wife.
There was a loud knock on the front door. The two arose and the door
opened to Vinegar Atts, Figger Bush, and Hitch Diamond.
"Sister Sickety, us three niggers is a cormittee of three app'inted to
wait in privut on Brudder Plaster Sickety an' hol' a secret confab wid
him," Vinegar announced pompously.
"I don't allow my husbunt to hab no secrets from me," Pearline answered
looking suspiciously at her old sweetheart, Hitch Diamond.
"Dis am a man's pussonal bizzness, Pearline," Hitch Diamond rumbled. "A
nigger woman is got to butt out."
"But I's chained up wid Plaster," Pearline protested.
"Git over agin dat wall while dese gen'lemens whispers to me," Plaster
remarked, giving her a push toward the chair which he had occupied under
similar circumstances a short time before.
The three committeemen walked up close to Plaster, draped their arms
over his shoulders, and talked in whispers, but guffawed out loud.
Because Pearline was present their eyes irresistibly sought hers,
especially when they laughed--what man can keep from looking at the
woman in a room?--and Pearline inferred that they were talking and
laughing about her. She strained her ears to hear, but not a word
enlightened her ignorance. Then with a loud laugh the three men
patted Plaster on the back and took themselves off.
"Whut did them niggers want, Plaster?" Pearline demanded in irate tones.
"Dat's a fambly secret," Plaster quoted mockingly.
"I felt like a fool wid dem mens lookin' at me an' snickerin'," the
woman complained. "Wus dey talkin' about me?"
"Yes'm," the man chuckled.
This remark set Pearline to thinking about certain incidents. Hitch had
been an old sweetheart, Figger Bush and Vinegar Atts had paid her
courtly attentions, and some things had happened that she would rather
not have to explain to her husband. There was a dismal depthless gulf of
painful silence between the honeymooners for a long time. Then Pearline
said with difficulty:
"I don't like de nigger mens you 'socheates wid. Dem three niggers ain't
fitten comp'ny fer my husbunt."
"Dat's whut I thinks about dem three womens dat come to see you,"
Plaster answered. "Ef you runs wid dat color of petticoats I shore will
disrespeck you mo' dan I does now."
"I runs wid anybody I chooses," Pearline snapped.
"Me, too," Plaster retorted.
They pulled apart and the chain rattled.
They stepped back from the entrance and closed the door.
And the evening and the morning were the second day.