ng.

Suddenly the bear-trap mouth of the big sheriff twisted into a little
smile.

"How'd you like to give your girl one of these things for a
wedding-present, Plaster?" he asked, as he tossed a polished pair of
handcuffs on the step beside the negro.

"I's kinder pestered in my mind 'bout gittin' a fitten weddin'-present,
Marse John, but--" Plaster rose to his feet and returned the manacles
without completing his sentence.

"How much money have you got?" Flournoy asked.

"I ain't got none till yit."

"How you going to buy the license? How you going to pay the preacher?"
Flournoy asked.

"Dat's whut I come to git a view from you about, Marse John. All de
cullud folks gives you a rep dat you is powerful good to niggers an' I
figgered dat you an' me mought fix up some kind of shake-down so I could
git married 'thout costin' me nothin'."

"Don't you ever read the Bible?" Flournoy growled. "Even Adam's wife
cost him a bone."

"Yes, suh," the negro grinned. "But I figger ef Sheriff Flournoy had
been aroun' anywheres at dat time, maybe Adam would 'a' got off a whole
lot cheaper."

"Have you got a job to support your wife?" Flournoy asked.

"Naw, suh."

"Have you got a house to live in?"

"Naw, suh."

"Where are you going to live with her--in a hollow sycamore-tree?"

"Yes, suh, I reckin so--dat is, excusin' ef you don't he'p us none."

"Where are you two idiots going to derive your sustenance--from the
circumambient atmosphere?"

"Dat's de word, Marse John--dat is, excusin' ef you don't loant us a
hand in our troubles," the negro murmured, wondering what the sheriff's
big talk meant.

"Do you love this black girl very much?" the sheriff asked with that odd
turn of tone with which every man speaks of love when he is in love with
love.

"Boss," the black man answered in a voice which throbbed, "I been lovin'
dat gal ever since she warn't no bigger dan--dan--dan a June-bug whut
had visited accidental a woodpecker prayer-meetin'."

"Is she good to look at, Plaster?" Flournoy smiled.

"Well, suh, I cain't lie to no white man, Marse John; an' I tells you
honest--she looks a whole heap better at night in de dark of de moon."

"If she ain't a good-looker, why do you love her?" Flournoy asked
without a smile.

"She's good sense an' jedgment, Marse John," the black man answered
earnestly. "An'--an'--I jes' nachelly loves her."

Flournoy studied a moment, twisting a pair of steel handcuffs in his
giant