Before he had finished the plea, she had pinned him in a corner and cut off retreat.

"Of course yer don't!" she answered generously. "No po' sinner ever does.

But don't yer fret, honey, I'se gwine ter save ye in spite er yosef! Yer needn't ter kick, yer needn't ter scramble, now's de time ye needs me, an I'se gwine ter stan' by ye. Nuttin' kin shake me loose now!"

She took a step toward him and he vainly tried to dodge. It was useless.

She hurled her ample form straight on him and lifted her arms for a generous embrace:

"Lordy, man, dat make me lub yer er hundred times mo!"

Andy made up his mind in a sudden burst of courage to fight for his life.

If she once got those arms about him he was gone. He grasped them roughly and stayed the onset:

"Ya.s.sam!" he answered warningly. "But I got ter 'fess up ter you now de whole truf. I bin er deceivin' you 'bout myself. I'se er bad n.i.g.g.e.r, Miss Minerva, an' I hain't worthy ter be you' husban'!"

"G'long, chile, I done know dat all de time!" she laughed.

Andy walled his eyes at her uneasily, and she continued:

"But I likes ter hear ye talk humble dat a way--hit's a good sign."

He shook his head impatiently:

"But ye don't know what I means!"

"Why, of cose, I does!" she replied genially. "I always knowed dat I wuz high above ye. I'se black, but I'se pure ez de drivellin' snow. I always knowed, honey, dat ye wern't my equal. But ye can't help dat. I'se er born 'ristocrat. My mudder was er African princess. My grandmudder wuz er queen--an' I'se er cook!"

Andy stamped his foot with angry impatience;

"Ya.s.sam--but ye git dat all wrong!"

"Cose, you' Minerva understan's when ye comes along side er yo' true love dat ye feels humble----"

"n.o.b.u.m! n.o.b.u.m!" he broke in emphatically--"ye got dat all wrong--all wrong!" He paused, drew a chair to the table and motioned her to a seat opposite.

"Des lemme tell ye now," he continued with determined kindness. "Ye see I got ter 'fess de whole truf ter you. Tain't right ter fool ye."

Minerva seated herself, complacently murmuring:

"Ya.s.sah, dat's so, Brer Andy."

He leaned over the table and looked at her a moment solemnly:

"I gotter 'fess ter you now, Miss Minerva, dat I'se always bin a bad n.i.g.g.e.r--what dey calls er pizen bad n.i.g.g.e.r--I'se er wife beater!"

Minerva's eyes walled in amazement:

"No?"

"Ya.s.sam," he went on seriously. "When I wuz married afore I got de habit er beatin' my wife!"

"Beat her?"

Andy shook his head dolefully:

"Ya.s.sam. Hit's des lak I tell ye. I hates ter 'fess. .h.i.t ter you, m'am, but I formed de habit, same ez drinkin' licker--I beat her! I des couldn't keep my hands offen her. I beat her scandalous! I pay no tenshun to her hollerin!--huh!--de louder she holler, 'pears lak de harder I beat her!"

"My, my, ain't dat terrible!" she gasped.

"Ya.s.sam----"

"Scandalous!"

"Dat it is----"

"Sinful!"

"Jes so!" he agreed sorrowfully.

"But man!" she cried ecstatically, "dat's what I calls er husband!"

"Hey?"

"Dat's de man fer me!"

He looked at her in dismay, s.n.a.t.c.hed the decanter, poured himself a straight drink of whiskey, gulped it down, leaned over the table and returned to his task with renewed vigor:

"But I kin see, m'am, dat yer don't know what I means! I didn't des switch 'er wid er cowhide er de buggy whip! I got in er regular habit er lammin'

her wid anything I git hold of--wid er axe handle or wid er fire shovel----"

"Well, dat's all right," Minerva interrupted admiringly. "She had de same chance ez you! I takes my chances. What I wants is er husban'--a husban'

dat's got de sand in his gizzard! Dat fust husban' er mine weren't no good 'tall--nebber hit me in his life but once--slap me in de face one day, lak dat!"

She gave a contemptuous imitation of the trivial blow with the palms of her hands.

"An' what'd you do, m'am?" Andy asked with sudden suspicion.

"Nuttin' 'tall!" she said with a smile. "I des laf, haul off, kinder playful lak, an' knock 'im down wid de flatiron----"

Andy leaped to his feet and walked around the table toward the door:

"Wid de flatiron!" he repeated incredulously.

"Didn't hit 'im hard!" Minerva laughed. "But he tumble on de flo' lak er ten-pin in er bowlin' alley. I stan' dar waitin' fer 'im ter git up an'

come ergin, an' what ye reckon he done?"

"I dunno, m'am," Andy sighed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.

Minerva laughed joyously at the memory of the scene: