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Updated: May 10, 2025
The idlers under the mulberry in front of the livery-stable nodded at the old negro preacher in his long greenish-black coat, and Dawson Bobbs remarked: "Well, old Parson Ranson's going to tell 'em about it to-day," and he shifted his toothpick with a certain effect of humor. Old Mr.
The buffoon would have collided with Peter, but the mulatto caught Jim Pink by the arm and shoulder, brought him to a halt, and at the same time helped him keep his feet. To Peter's inquiry what was the matter, the black fellow whirled and blared out loudly, for the sake of his audience: "'Fo' Gawd, nigger, I sho thought Mr. Bobbs had me!" and he writhed his face into an idiotic grimace.
"Den let 'im git out'n dis business an' git in anudder," scolded the old woman. "Dis sho is a mighty po' business." The ponderous Mr. Bobbs finished with a practised thoroughness his inspection of the cabin, and then the inquisition proceeded down the street, around the crescent, and so out of sight and eventually out of hearing.
"O Tump Pack," he called loudly, "you kain't git away from me! If you roll bones in Hooker's Bend, you'll have to divide your winnings with the county." Dawson winked a chill eye at the crowd in general. "But hit's out o' date, Mr. Bobbs," the old gray-headed minister, Parson Ranson, was pleading.
Y' see, Mr. Throgmartin tried to hire Tump to pick cotton. Tump didn't haf to, because he'd jes shot fo' natchels in a crap game. So to-day, when Tump starts over heah wid his gun, Mr. Bobbs 'resses Tump. Mr. Throgmartin bails him out, so now Tump's gone to pick cotton fuh Mr. Throgmartin to pay off'n his fine."
It was on a chair near the door where his mother had put it and then forgotten it. As the key was outside Tim made his exit the way he came in, stopping a moment to look at the milk the cat was lapping with a great deal of satisfaction. "Bobbs, you'll have a good supper, and I shall catch old hundred for giving it to you," he said, picking up the pan and springing through the window.
Cicero Throgmartin, for whom Tump was working, cautioning Throgmartin to make sure that Tump Pack was in the sleeping-shack every night, as he might get wind of the wedding and take a notion to bolt and stop it. "You know, you can't tell what a fool nigger'll do," finished Bobbs.
At that moment Dawson Bobbs lounged in at the door, with his perpetual grin balling up his broad red face. He had a toothpick, in his mouth. "'S matter?" he asked casually. "Peter there," said the banker, with a pale, sharp face, "doesn't want to stick to his trade. He is just walking off with one of my hundred- dollar bills."
CHARACTER AND TEMPERAMENT. By Joseph Jastrow. Pp. 596 Plus xviii. D. Appleton & Co., 1915. $2.50 net. BACKWARD CHILDREN. By Arthur Holmes. Pp. 247. Bobbs, Merrill. $1.00 net. A MECHANISTIC VIEW OF WAR AND PEACE. By George W. Crile. Pp. 105 Plus xii. The MacMillan Co. $1.25. Copyright 1916, by Richard G. Badger. All Rights Reserved.
The literary master began very deliberately. "My good friend Bobbs," said he, "I see your nose gradually is turning red." The drama immediately pitched into oblivion. The room thundered with a great shout of laughter that went to the ceiling. I could see Bobbs making angry shouts against an invulnerable bank of uncontrolled merriment.
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