Pap and me has a--er, a little business on hand and--she ain't at home.
They told me that they was some sort of shindig at Mr. Hardwick's
to-night. I reckon Johnnie Consadine is chasin' round after her tony
friends. Pap said she left the house a-goin' in that direction--or
Mavity told me, I disremember which. I reckon you'll find her thar. What
do you want of her?"
"It's Deanie." She glanced fearfully past his shoulder to where the big
clock on the grocery wall showed through its dim window. It was
half-past ten. The lateness of the hour seemed to strike her with fresh
terror, "Shade, come along of me," she pleaded. "I'm so skeered. I never
shall have the heart to go in and ax for Johnnie, this time o' night at
that thar fine house. How she can talk up to them swell people like she
does is more than I know. You go with me and ax is she thar."
The group of young men had crossed the bridge and were well on their way
to the Inn. Buckheath glanced after them doubtfully and turned to walk
at Mandy's side. When they came to the gate, the woman hung back,
whimpering at sight of the festal array, and sound of the voices within.
"They've got a party," she deprecated. "My old dress is jest as dirty as
the floor. You go ax 'em, Shade."
As she spoke, Johnnie, carrying a tray of cups and saucers, passed a
lighted window, and Buckheath uttered a sudden, unpremeditated oath.
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