some extent by her tarrying in the shade, she began to shift and
hitch about uneasily upon the board-pile. At length she leaned a bit
to one side, reached into a pocket and, taking out a snuff-stick and
a parcel of its attendant compound, began to take a dip of snuff,
after the habit of certain of the population of that region. This
done, she turned with a swift jerk of the head, bringing to bear the
tube of her bonnet in full force upon her lord and master.

"Jim Bowles," she said, "this heah is a shame! Hit's a plumb shame!"

There was no answer, save an uneasy hitch on the part of the person
so addressed. He seemed to feel the focus of the sunbonnet boring
into his system. The voice in the bonnet went on, shot straight
toward him, so that he might not escape.

"Hit's a plumb shame," said Mrs. Bowles, again.

"I know it, I know it," said her husband at length, uneasily. "That
is, about us having to walk up heah. That whut you mean?"

"Yassir, that's whut I do mean, an' you know it."

"Well, now, how kin _I_ help it? We kain't take the only mewel we got
and make the nigger stop wu'k. That ain't reasonable. Besides, you
don't think Cunnel Blount is goin' to miss a pail o' melk now and
then, do you?"

A snort of indignation greeted this supposition.

"Jim Bowles, you make me sick," replied his wife. "We kin get melk