plum' in the pupils of thar eyes, I don't know whar 'tis, that's
sho'. But, thank heaven, I ain't one of those that's always
findin' an excuse for people--not even if the backslider be my
own husband. Thar's got to be some few folks on the side of
decency, an' I'm one of 'em. Virtue's a slippery thing--that's
how I look at it--an' if you don't git a good grip on it an'
watch it with a mighty stern eye it's precious apt to wriggle
through yo' fingers. I'm an honest woman, Mr. Fletcher, an' I
wouldn't blush to own it in the presence of the King of England

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Fletcher, with a brutal laugh; "do you
mean to tell me the precious young fool has fallen in love with
you?"

"Me, suh? If he had, a broomstick an' a spar' rib or so would
have been all you'd ever found of him agin. I've never yit laid
eyes on the man I couldn't settle with a single sweep, an' when a
lone woman comes to wantin' a protector, I've never seen the
husband that could hold a candle to a good stout broom. That's
what I said to Jinnie when she got herself engaged to Fred
Boxley. 'Married or single,' I said, 'gal, wife, or widow, a
broom is yo' best friend.'"

Fletcher twisted impatiently in his chair.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, stop your drivelling," he blurted out at
last, "and tell me in plain language what the boy has done."

"Oh, I don't know what he's done or what he hasn't," rejoined
Mrs. Spade, "but I've watched him courtin' Molly Peterkin till I