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Updated: May 22, 2025
I'd go to the weddin' it's free, in the church if I had anything decent to wear." "Now, Dilly, what can I do? I leave it to you," asked Samson Rawdy, with confessed helplessness. "Do?" said she. "Why, tell him he's got to pay ahead or he can't have the cerridges. If you're afraid to, I'll ask him. I ain't afraid." "Lord! I ain't afraid, Dilly," said Rawdy.
"And now you're goin' right on an' lettin' him have all your cerridges, and you'll be wantin' me to help clean the seats, too, I'll warrant, and you're agoin' to hire into the bargain, with him owin' you and owin' everybody else in town." "Now, Dilly, I didn't say I was agoin' to," protested Rawdy.
The women folks were in the house. "Did he pay you?" asked Mrs. Rawdy. Then Rawdy shook a fat roll of bills in her face. "Look at here," said he. "The whole of it?" "Every darned mill; my cerridges and the New Sanderson ones, too." "Well, now, ain't you glad you did the way I told you to?" "Lord! he'd paid me, anyway," declared Rawdy. "He's a gentleman. Women are always dreadful scart."
"Well, you ain't goin' to let one of your cerridges go, let alone hirin', unless he pays ahead." "Lord! Dilly, how'm I goin' to ask him?" protested Rawdy. "How? Why, the way anybody would ask him. 'Ain't you got a tongue in your head?" demanded she. "You dunno what a man he is. I asked him the other night when I drove him up, and it wa'n't a job I liked, I can tell you." "Did he pay you?"
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