e er man work his j'ints," he moved off
toward the door, and turning just before going out, said to Peters:
"Yere come Miss Lou now."

The girl came in singing, but seeing Peters, hushed, and turned to go
out.

"One minute, Miss Lou," said Peters, bowing awkwardly.

She halted, looked at him and said, "Well?"

"Won't you sit down," said Peters, making a great show of politeness.

"I'm not tired," Lou replied.

Peters smiled. "I've got suthin' I want to say to you."

"Then I may be tired," she said, sitting down. "Well?"

Peters stood for a moment, looking at her and then inquired: "Did yo'
father tell you suthin' I said to him?"

Slowly rocking she looked up at him. "He always has enough talk of his
own without repeatin' what other folks say."

"But what I told him was about you."

"Well, if what you said wasn't good you wouldn't be here to tell about
it, so it don't concern me."

He attempted to smile, but failed. "I don't know about that."

"You don't know about anything--much."

"Enough to know what I think of you."

"Hope you know what I think of you."

"Ah," said Peters, "I don't reckon you think of me very often."

Lou got up and went to him, looked straight into his eyes and said:
"Think of you! Why, I never know you are on earth till you come where I
am and then I spend my time tryin' to forget you are there."

"Well, now," replied Peters, "that ain't very polite."

She stepped back and looked at him in pretended astonishment. "Was
anybody ever polite to you?"

"Well, not many of the Starbucks, that's a fact--none, come to think of
it 'cept yo' cousin Jim, the preacher, and he believes that the Lord
made all things for a purpose."

"Yes, he believes that God made the devil."

Peters laughed as if he really enjoyed her contempt of him. He pulled at
his whiskers, cleared his throat, took a turn about the room and looking
at her again, he appeared as if he had attempted to soften his
countenance with a sentiment urgently summoned. "Yes, that is all true,
I reckon. And now let me tell you. I mout not look like it--like I'm
hard to please, but I am. Thar ain't one woman out of a hundred that can
make me wake up when I'm sleepy and think about her, but you can. And
ever sense you was a child I've said I'd never marry till I could git
you." He saw the anger in her eyes and hesitated. "Ah, you may not think
very much of me now," he continued, "but that can all be changed. A
woman's like a mor