"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 n.i.g.g.e.rs 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 n.i.g.g.e.r woman is got to b.u.t.t 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 circ.u.mstances 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 n.i.g.g.e.rs 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 n.i.g.g.e.r mens you 'socheates wid. Dem three n.i.g.g.e.rs 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 sh.o.r.e 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.

V.

By sleeping until the noon-hour the two love-captives shortened the third day by half.

In the two days past they had exhausted every theme of conversation, had wearied of every kind of amus.e.m.e.nt they could devise, and had pumped their hearts dry of language to proclaim and protest their affection for each other to lubricate the machinery of existence amid the friction of their disposition and temperament.

The day before Plaster had made a hit with a song, so he decided to fill every moment of that day until the sun sank below the horizon with vocal music, for song banishes conversation and song is not provocative of difference of opinion and argument--so he thought. While he and his wife were dressing, Plaster began:

"Does you know dat I am dyin'

Fer a little bit of love?

Everywhar dey hears me sighin'

Fer a little bit of love.

Fer dat love dat grows mo' strong, Fills de heart wid hope and song, I has waited--oh, so long-- Fer a little bit of love."

"Whut makes you sing so dang loud, Plaster?" Pearline asked wearily, as she rested her head upon her hands. "You sounds like a brayin' jackace mournin' because he done tumbled down a open well."

"One time you said you liked my singin'," Plaster retorted.

"I couldn't tell you whut I really thought about it in dem sad days,"

Pearline remarked.

They ate their noon meal in silence because neither could think of anything to say. Plaster had got the hook at the very beginning of his musical career, and the things he thought of to say were not fit for utterance or publication.

As they rose from the table, they looked with surprise out of the window.

A long procession of negroes approached the cabin. All were dressed in their best clothes and the Rev. Vinegar Atts was in the lead.

The bridal pair suddenly remembered something, and they stepped out on the porch to receive them as they filled the s.p.a.ce in front of the house.

Vinegar took his famous preaching att.i.tude in front of the porch, inflated his lungs and began:

"Brudder an' Sister Sickety, us is all rejoiced dat you two honey-loves is got mighty nigh through wid yo' honey-tower widout no fuss or fight.

We welcomes you back to our sawsiety wid glad arms. We hopes dat you will love each yuther mo' or less an' off an' on ferever! We knows dat you has well earnt dis house an' lot dat Ma.r.s.e John Flournoy has gib you an' we cullud folks wants to make you a present of a few change so you kin buy some nice house-furnicher an' start out fresh an' new."

Thereupon Vinegar laid his stove-pipe hat upside down upon the floor of the porch, turned and surveyed the a.s.sembly while he mopped his bald head with a yellow bandana handkerchief.

"Walk right up, brudders an' sisters, an' drap yo' few change in dis stove-pipe preachin'-hat!"

They came up one by one, laughingly depositing their money, and pausing to shake hands with the bride and groom.

When the ceremony ended, Vinegar emptied his hat upon the floor of the porch, placed it upon his head with a farewell flourish, and led the negroes out of the yard.

"Dis money is de fambly secret dem three n.i.g.g.e.r womens whispered to me, honey," Pearline giggled.

"Dat's de myst'ry dem three committee fellers tole me," Plaster chuckled.

The two sat down and counted the money--twenty-five dollars and thirty cents!

"Dat thuty cents is yourn to spend foolish, Pearline," Plaster said generously as he pushed three dimes toward her and clutched with both hands at the rest.

"Hol' on n.i.g.g.e.r!" Pearline snapped. "I ain't no bayou minnow to git jes'