Eve put down her sewing, stood up before him, her arms akimbo, and gazed at him steadily till the whites of her eyes began to shine like two moons. “You wants me ter whale you ober de head wid dat poker?” “Not dis evenin’, M’am.” “Den what ail you?” “De Buro des inform me, dat es I’se er young han’some man en you’se er gittin’ kinder ole en fat, dat we aint married nohow. En dey gimme er paper fur er dollar dat allow me ter marry de young lady er my choice. Dat sho is er great Buro!” “We aint married?” “Nob-um.” “Atter we stan’ up dar befo’ Marse John Durham en say des what all dem white folks say?” “Nob-um.” Eve slowly took her seat and gazed down the road thoughtfully. “I t’ink I drap eroun’ ter see you en gin you er chance wid de odder gals fo’ I steps off,” explained Nelse with a grin. No answer. “You ’member dat night I say sumfin’ ’bout er gal I know once, en you riz en grab er poun’ er wool outen my head fo’ I kin move?” No answer yet. “Min’ dat time, you bust de biscuit bode ober my head, en lam me wid de fire-shovel, en hit me in de burr er de year wid er flatiron es I wuz makin’ fur de do’?” “Yas, I min’s dat sho!” said Eve with evident satisfaction. “Doan you wish you nebber done dat?” “You black debbil!” “Dat’s hit! I’se er bad nigger, M’am,--bad nigger fo’ de war. En I’se gittin’ wuss en wuss,” Nelse chuckled. She looked at him with gathering rage and contempt. “En den fudder mo, M’am, I doan lak de way you talk ter me sometimes. Yo voice des kinder takes de skin off same’s er file. I laks ter hear er ’oman’s voice lak my Missy’s, des es sof’ es wool. Sometime one word from her keep me warm all winter. De way you talk sometime make me cole in de summer time.” Nelse rose while Eve sat motionless. “I des call, M’am, ter drap er little intent inter dem years er yourn, dat’ll percerlate froo you min’, en when I calls ergin I hopes ter be welcome wid smiles.” Nelse bowed himself out the door in grandiloquent style. All the afternoon he was laughing to himself over his triumph, and imagining the welcome when he returned that evening with his marriage license and the officer to perform the ceremony. At supper in the kitchen he was polite and formal in his manners to Eve. She eyed him in a contemptuous sort of way and never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary. It was about half past eight when Nelse arrived at home with the license duly issued and the officer of the Bureau ready to perform the ceremony. “Des wait er minute here at de corner, sah, twell I kinder breaks de news to ’em,” said Nelse to the officer. He approached the cabin door and knocked. It was shut and fastened. He got no response. He knocked loudly again. Eve thrust her head out the window. “Who’s dat?” “Hits me, M’am, Mister Nelson Gaston, I’se call ter see you.” “Den you hump yo’se’f en git away from dat do, you rascal.”